Moments in Time
by erm31323
Summary: A collection of different character one-shots written for the Snakes and Ladders Challenge on HPFC. Chapter 23 - A night in the life of Harry and Ginny's young family.
1. Angelina Johnson

**A/N - Written for the Snakes and Ladders Challenge at HPFC. My character this time was Angelina Johnson/Weasley. I've decided to put the rest of the characters I get for this challenge into this multi-chapter format instead of a bunch of short one-shots. Enjoy! **

**5 September 1998**

Angelina ran her fingers lightly over the stack of Skiving Snackboxes. She smiled remembering the fight Fred and George had had with Hermione over experimenting on first years back in seventh year. She'd laughed along with everyone else, although not at Hermione, but at the tongue-lashing she'd given the twins.

Angelina and Fred had an on-again, off-again relationship sixth and seventh year and at that point they had been off-again. She wasn't sure just what it was that had kept them from becoming an official couple while they were still at school. Immaturity she supposed, and not just on his part. It wasn't until after his brother Bill's wedding when everything had starting going to hell quickly that the two of them had started dating again.

"Hey Ang," George said coming up behind her. "What brings you here?" She shrugged.

"Just wanted to see how you're doing," she replied, turning to face him.

"All right," George said, shoving his hands in his pockets and looking at the ground.

"I heard Ron's helping out," she said.

"Yeah, it's been good, having him here," George admitted. Although Angelina could hear the unspoken words behind the statement, that Ron wasn't Fred.

"Been busy?" she asked.

"Before school started, yeah," he answered. "Bit slow since then, but that's not too surprising." Angelina nodded and turned back to the shelves, scanning through the familiar products that she'd seen hundreds of times before.

"Anything new?" she questioned, glancing back at George who was still standing with his hands in his pockets, looking somewhat uncomfortable.

"Nah," he shrugged. "Haven't been inspired much lately." Angelina couldn't respond over the lump in her throat. She blinked rapidly, cursing herself for letting this happen. She'd come here to check up on George. The last thing he needed was for her to become a blubbering mess.

"Ang?" he said in concern and Angelina couldn't hold back any longer. The tears began to flow freely down her cheeks. George didn't say anything, just pulled her into a hug. Angelina gripped the front of his robes, resting her forehead against his shoulder. After a few minutes, she looked up at him, swiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. His eyes looked suspiciously bright.

"I'm sorry," she said. "It just, hits me sometimes."

"I know," he said, his voice cracking a bit. He cleared his throat. "He loved you, you know."

"I know," Angelina echoed with a little laugh. "I loved him too."

"Yeah," George replied. "The stupid git." Angelina grinned.

"Can you imagine him watching us right now?" she asked and George snorted.

"He'd smack us both and tell us to get a grip," George replied. Angelina laughed out loud. George looked at her, his mouth twitching and soon he was laughing as well. After a few minutes, they both had tears streaming down their faces again, albeit for an altogether different reason this time.

When they had finally recovered themselves, George grabbed Angelina's hand and pulled her into the backroom. He opened a cupboard and took out a bottle of firewhiskey and two glasses. He poured a bit of the alcohol into both glasses and handed one to Angelina.

"To Fred," George said, raising his glass. Angelina raised hers and clinked it against George's and they both threw them back, slamming the glasses down on the table at nearly the same time.

"Impressive Johnson," George said at the lack of a grimace from Angelina. "I see we taught you well."

"Yes, Corrupters of Innocents," Angelina returned. "Maybe that should have been your shop slogan."

"Like you were ever innocent, Ang," George said with a smirk. Angelina looked mock-offended. "Besides, I prefer Purveyors of Mischief." George paused. "Fred came up with that one." They were still smiling, but the mood had turned somber once again. Angelina glanced at her watch.

"Well, I should probably get back," she said. "My lunch is about over." George nodded and led her back to the front of the shop. Angelina gave him a kiss on the cheek and then walked to the door.

"Hey Ang," George called as she reached it. She turned and looked back at him. "Don't be a stranger." Angelina gave him a smile.

"Wouldn't think of it Weasley," she replied, winking as she left the shop.


	2. Fred Weasley

**A/N - My next character was Fred. He was a difficult character for me to write which surprised me actually. This chapter has a flashback and in it the twins are almost 4 1/2. It's been awhile since I had a 4 year old, so I hope the dialog between them sounds okay. :)**

**27 July 1997**

Fred had never thought about losing his twin brother. Well, he had in an abstract, we're at war kind of way, he supposed. But it wasn't until tonight when he had rushed into the living room and seen George lying on the couch, a gaping hole where his ear used to be that he really _thought_ about it.

He'd laughed of course, at his brother's completely lame "saintlike" joke and kept up the laughter afterwards because that's what everyone expected him to do, even George. It wasn't until now, when George was asleep in the bed across from Fred's, the empty vial of Dreamless Sleep on the bedside table, that Fred could really allow himself to think about it.

If he'd lost George, Fred let that train of thought trail off and shook his head. He knew that everyone thought he was the harder twin, the one willing to take things just a little further, play pranks that were just a little harsher. And he couldn't deny that those things were true. But George was the anchor, the one that kept Fred from taking things _too_ far, the voice of reason for some of Fred's more mental ideas. Fred had no doubt that more than one of the products he'd thought up would probably have maimed or killed someone if it weren't for George's insistence on extensive testing and safety measures. If it weren't for George, Fred would be lost.

It had always been that way, even when they were small. Fred never felt like himself if George wasn't around and in fact for a time, he had been downright scared of being alone. George never knew this though, at least Fred didn't think that he did. Truth be told, Fred didn't much fancy being alone now that he was an adult either.

Fred stood and went to the window. Far off in the distance lightning flashed faintly and Fred smiled, remembering how afraid George used to be of thunderstorms.

* * *

**September 1982**

Fred felt himself being shaken awake. He yawned and rubbed his eyes, opening them to see his twin brother standing next to his bed.

"Whassa matter Georgie?" he asked sleepily.

"There's a storm Freddie," George replied. "Can't you hear it?" Fred blinked and turned toward the window as a flash of lightning lit up the sky. George yelped and jumped into Fred's bed, huddled up against his twin.

"S'okay Georgie," Fred said, giving his brother a pat on the shoulder. "Do you wanna go to Bill's room?"

"Bill's not here, 'member?" George said, shaking a little. "He's at Hogwarts." Their oldest brother had left for school just three weeks before. It still seemed strange not to see him at the table with them at breakfast every morning or watch him toss Ginny or Ron over his shoulder and tickle them. Fred never thought he'd miss his brother, he had so many of them after all, but just then, he missed Bill quite a lot.

"Oh yeah, right," Fred replied. "Charlie then?" George snorted.

"You'd hafta drop a bludger on Charlie's head to get him to wake up," George said and Fred giggled. The twins looked at each other questioningly for a moment before Fred shook his head.

"Nah," he said, "Mum'd go spare." George nodded sagely. The thunder boomed and George jumped. Neither brother even mentioned Percy. He would probably just shake his head and give them 47 reasons why they shouldn't be afraid of storms.

"We could always go to Mum and Dad's room," Fred said, putting an arm around his brother's shoulders.

"Mum's tired," George said quietly. "Ginny and Ronnie're sick and I think Mum misses Bill a lot. I heard her cryin' in the kitchen before dinner."

"Well, I'll protect you then Georgie," Fred assured him. George looked at him questioningly. "I'm older, Mum said so." George rolled his eyes.

"You're _ten minutes_ older Freddie," George said exasperatedly.

"So, I'm still older and what does Dad always tell us?" Fred asked. George sighed.

"That the older ones always look out for the younger ones," he said.

"See, so I should look out for you," Fred replied importantly.

"But you're scared too," George pointed out. Fred bit his lip. The truth was he wasn't scared, not of storms anyway. He'd always followed George to Bill's room because Fred was scared of being alone. The room was big and dark and there were all kinds of scary shadows in the corners when George wasn't here with him. But he'd never told George that. He didn't want George to think he was a baby.

"Not anymore," Fred said confidently. "I'm older 'member?" George looked at his brother, brow furrowed in thought.

"Can I sleep here with you then?" he finally asked.

"Course," Fred said, scooting to the side to make room. He kept an arm around George's shoulders and they lay down on Fred's pillow, heads tilted toward each other. They were quiet for a long time, watching the storm out the window. Fred would give George's shoulder a comforting squeeze whenever the lightning flashed. When the storm finally began to wind down, George yawned widely.

"Freddie?" he mumbled eyelids already fluttering closed.

"Yeah Georgie?" Fred replied.

"You're a good older brother," George managed and then his eyes closed completely and his breathing evened out. Fred gave his brother's shoulder one last squeeze and drifted off to sleep himself.

* * *

**27 July 1997**

Fred smiled as he pulled himself from his reverie. George had climbed into his bed whenever there was a storm after that until they were 9 or so. Fred could still remember the first time that he woke up to thunder and George was still asleep. He remembered being a bit disappointed. He looked over at George and sat down on the edge of his brother's bed, taking George's hand in his.

"No dying on me, Georgie," Fred whispered. "That's an order from your older brother." George slumbered on, seemingly oblivious to his brother's words. "I mean it," Fred said, squeezing George's hand. "I couldn't do it without you. You probably could, without me, but I've never been as strong as you." Fred felt the tears gathering in his eyes and was glad that his brother wasn't awake to see them. He chuckled imagining the ribbing he'd get if George saw Fred crying over him.

He sat at his brother's side, holding his hand all night and in the morning when George woke, he found Fred asleep, head propped against the bedside table, still dressed and still holding George's hand. George smiled.

"I'm not going anywhere Freddie," he whispered and saw a ghost of a grin flash over his twin's face.


	3. Dobby

**A/N - My next character was Dobby and this one was hard! Not sure I'm completely happy with this one, but here it is. All dates came from the timeline on the HP Lexicon.**

**31 July 1992**

Dobby stood outside his master's study, wringing his hands. He had watched Harry Potter this morning from the garden hedge and Dobby did not think that Harry Potter looked very happy. Dobby had felt a bit sad about that, as it was he that had kept Harry Potter's mail from him. Dobby's family did not like owls flying into their dinners and meetings, so Dobby had learned the magic to divert the birds to a dropping-off point in the kitchen. Then the house-elves would present the masters with their letters on a silver tray.

Dobby had used the spell on Harry Potter's house and had collected the letters every day. Today, Dobby had wanted to find out if Harry Potter was still planning on going back to school, but then the other boy, the large one, had come and Dobby had to disappear.

Dobby's master was planning something, something horrible and dangerous at Hogwarts this year and Dobby had made it his mission to keep Harry Potter safe. If Harry Potter could destroy He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named for good, then perhaps Dobby's master would finally be sent to Azkaban where he belonged and Dobby would be free or given a new master that treated him more kindly. Although, Dobby did not have much hope of that. His master's pockets were very deep and had saved him once before. Still, maybe other house-elves would be luckier. Dobby hoped so.

Dobby had come to his masters long ago, Dobby could not remember exactly when, but his current master had been but a boy. There were other house-elves here, the manor was too big for one elf to manage it alone, but Dobby had always belonged mostly to the master.

His master would be most displeased with Dobby if he knew what Dobby was doing, but Dobby did not mind the punishments so much when he was doing what was right. And since Master had not strictly forbid Dobby to leave the manor or speak of certain things, Dobby was able to give Harry Potter some warnings. Harry Potter needed to be kept safe and Dobby was the only one who knew what was going to happen.

Dobby waited until his family had finished their dinner and then retired to their separate rooms. And then Dobby disappeared with a small crack, intending to convince Harry Potter to stay home from Hogwarts.

* * *

**1 September 1992**

Dobby was most worried. Harry Potter had refused to heed Dobby's warning and when Dobby had returned to his house a few days later, Harry Potter had been gone! Dobby had not known what to do until his master had come home from Diagon Alley with a black eye, ranting about disgraceful blood-traitors. Young master had said something about Harry Potter and Dobby understood that Harry Potter was with his Wheezy's.

And now, Dobby was waiting at King's Cross station for Harry Potter to arrive. Harry Potter must not get on the train, but Dobby could not watch the muggle side of the magical barrier because his master would see that he was missing. Dobby pulled at his ears nervously, not knowing what to do. There was only five minutes until the train left and Harry Potter was not here.

Then Dobby saw a Wheezy come through the barrier. Dobby glanced at his master who was talking to Mr. Nott, but glanced down at Dobby every few moments. Master would notice if Dobby left. Dobby watched the Wheezy's come through and when they had all arrived, but Harry Potter and one other, Dobby snapped his fingers behind his back with a smile. Harry Potter would not be able to get to Hogwarts now.

* * *

**7 November 1992**

Dobby had to get to Hogwarts. Young master had sent letters about the quidditch game against Gryffindor and Dobby needed to get Harry Potter home. The bad things had started, young master had sent a letter home about that too and Dobby could not let Harry Potter stay at school.

Dobby's punishments had gotten worse. After Dobby had ironed his hands for freezing the barrier at the train station, Dobby had problems doing his tasks. And then when he found out that Harry Potter had gotten back to Hogwarts after all, Dobby was distracted and jumpy. He burned dinners and forgot tasks set him. Master had taken to looking at Dobby strangely and Dobby was afraid that soon Master would order it so Dobby could not leave the manor at all. Dobby must get to Harry Potter before that happened.

* * *

Dobby was very sorry that Harry Potter had gotten hurt from the bludger, but it was better than Harry Potter being dead. Dobby had watched until Harry Potter had been taken back into the school and sighed that his plan had failed once again. Harry Potter had only broken his arm and Dobby did not think that they would send him home for that. Dobby returned home to prepare dinner for his family, knowing he would have to visit Harry Potter tonight and try and convince him one more time.

* * *

Dobby felt the pull of his master while he was talking to Harry Potter, but he ignored it for the moment as Dobby tried to explain why Harry Potter must save himself instead of his friends. When he could resist no longer, Dobby disappeared and landed on the floor of the study in front of his master.

"What took so long?" Master hissed. Dobby swallowed guiltily, as Dobby could see by Master's face, the rage that was boiling within.

"Dobby was sleeping Master," Dobby said, looking at the ground. "Dobby was having a hard time waking up. Dobby is sorry that Dobby kept Master waiting. Dobby shall punish himself most grievously for making Mater wait," Dobby assured him, bowing so low, his nose nearly touched the ground.

"Yes, you shall," Master replied. "After I give you my punishment of course." He tapped the head of his cane with a fingertip.

"Yes, Master," Dobby nearly whispered.

"Oh and Dobby," Master said, as he pulled his wand from the head of the cane. "You are not to leave the manor unless accompanied by Mrs. Malfoy or myself. And you will perform no magic outside the manor unless specifically requested to by Mrs. Malfoy or myself, nor will you tell anyone about what is discussed here, in abstract terms or otherwise. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Master," Dobby said again, mind working furiously for a loophole to these new orders, heart sinking when finding none.

Hours later, Dobby dragged his battered and bruised body into his nest of blankets in a cupboard in the kitchen, the only thought in his mind that he could no longer warn Harry Potter.

"Good luck Harry Potter, sir," he whispered. "Dobby is sorry."

* * *

**30 May 1993**

Dobby was going to Hogwarts with his master. He had not finished shining Master's shoes quickly enough and Master had been in such a temper, he had just demanded the elf come with him. Dobby was overjoyed to see Harry Potter in the headmaster's office when they arrived, but continued to shine Master's shoes, Master's previous order about not saying anything to anyone or performing any magic outside the manor still in place.

All of a sudden, Dobby's face brightened. Master had said that he couldn't _say_ anything about what he overheard at the manor, but he had not said that Dobby could not try to tell in a different way. Dobby caught Harry Potter's attention and began trying to get Harry Potter to understand what he was trying to tell him. He had to punish himself still, of course, so he punched himself in the head each time, but finally Harry Potter seemed to understand.

Dobby was so happy to see Master receive at least some of what he deserved, that he didn't even mind when Master kicked him from the room. He howled of course, Master expected that, but he did not mind.

Dobby's eyes grew wide as Harry Potter came running down the corridor after his master. And Dobby could not believe it when Master threw Dobby a sock. And now Dobby was free. Because Harry Potter was the very best wizard in all of wizards, Dobby was free.

When Dobby disappeared from Hogwarts a free elf, Dobby vowed that he would always help Harry Potter, whenever Harry Potter needed him. Dobby did not notice the small band of gold magic that settled over his heart at this thought. The magic that would ever connect him to Harry Potter, a vow freely given by the little elf who would one day give his life for his friend.


	4. Seamus Finnigan

**A/N - I had Seamus this time. This was a fun one to do. Hope you like it! **

**20 April 1998**

Seamus glanced over his shoulder again as he continued to run. His breath was coming in short gasps now, hampered by the swelling in his face and nose and the stitch in his side had grown to near debilitating proportions. But he did not stop running. Luckily the Carrows had split up a few minutes back, Amycus intending on circling round and cutting him off Seamus supposed. Alecto wasn't near as fast as her brother and had fallen back quite a bit in the last few moments.

Seamus ran around another corner and ducked into an alcove behind a large tapestry. He held his breath so as not to be discovered as Alecto ran past, then slipped out and turned back the other way. If he could get to the hidden staircase, it would bring him out only a corridor away from the Room of Requirement.

Seamus was positive that Neville was there. He hadn't seen his fellow Gryffindor in two days and he was sure that had the Carrows captured him, Neville would have been put on display for the entire school to see. Given the fact that Neville wouldn't have been able to get out of the school without setting off about a hundred alarms, there was nowhere else he could have gone.

Seamus ran up the stairs as quickly and as silently as he could. Even after spending nearly a year chasing students around the castle, there were still some passageways that the Carrows were unfamiliar with and this was one of them. Reaching the top, Seamus pressed himself against the wall and peeked around the corner. He swore as he saw Mrs. Norris stalking up and down the corridor. While Filch no longer had much to do with the students' punishments, Seamus was unsure of his loyalty. And regardless, it was after curfew, so chances were Filch would take him to McGonagall at the very least. Seamus normally wouldn't worry about this. His Head of House had made it known to all her lions that she would do everything in her power to protect them from the Carrows and Snape, but Seamus had no doubt that if he did not escape tonight, he'd be dead by morning.

Seamus waited, but there was no sign of Filch and walking about undetected had never been the caretaker's forte. Seamus stood weighing his options when he heard a noise from the bottom of the stairs. It appeared one of the Carrows had found the hidden staircase after all.

Decision made, Seamus burst from the top of the stairway, running towards the next corridor, Mrs. Norris hot on his heels. She was yowling and meowing and soon Seamus heard the gravelly voice Filch behind him. Not daring to turn around and see how close they were, Seamus pelted down the hall and around the corridor. He reached the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy, his mind nearly screaming to find the room where Neville was hiding. The door appeared before he had even completed his third pass and as he dove through it, he heard the unmistakable voice of Filch telling Amycus Carrow that Seamus had disappeared somewhere a floor below.

"Seamus!" he heard as he slid into the room on his belly.

"Nev," Seamus panted, looking up and squinting at his friend through the one eye that had not swollen completely shut. "Made it," Seamus whispered and then proceeded to pass out.

When he awoke, Seamus groaned at the pounding in his head. He tried to open his eyes, but only one cooperated and it only opened a mere slit. Seamus groaned again.

"Hey Seamus," Neville said, coming to stand in front of him. Seamus realized he was lying in some type of hammock. "You look like shite." Neville grinned and Seamus began to laugh, but stopped when it made his face hurt worse.

"Feel like it too," Seamus managed, grimacing at the pain.

"I've got some ice, but that's all I'm afraid," Neville said apologetically, placing the bag of ice of the worse of Seamus' eyes. "Ab said he'd try to get some pain potions or bruise paste to us."

"Ab?" Seamus asked, shifting the bag of ice. He saw Neville nod.

"Owns the Hog's Head," Neville explained. "A passage opened up to the pub yesterday when I was wishing for some food."

"He won't rat us out?" Seamus asked.

"Nah," Neville replied shaking his head. "Ab's on our side." Seamus sighed and gingerly moved his bruised and battered body. He thought he might have cracked some ribs too, but he wasn't sure.

"So what happened?" Neville asked.

"Crabbe and Goyle," Seamus said. "Cruciatus practice. Guess Amycus didn't like it when I asked them if that was all they had. Threw me up against the wall a few times. Probably would have been the end of it if I hadn't jumped in front of the second year Crabbe was going to curse next. Good old Alecto didn't like that at all. She did my face."

"She punched you?" Neville asked incredulously. Seamus snorted.

"You think she would dirty her hands on a half-blood like me?" he asked. "No this was all punching and slashing hexes. Kept it up for quite some time too. Probably would have killed me altogether if I hadn't got out."

"How?" Neville asked.

"Snape funnily enough," Seamus admitted. "He came in and pulled the two of them out in the hall to talk to them about something. I slipped out through Amycus' office." He shrugged his shoulders. "So what now?" It was Neville's turn to shrug.

"We wait," he said. "I'm sure Michael will be here before long. The Carrows are still pissed about him letting that first year go, just biding their time until he does something else they can punish him for. But you should sleep. I'll wake you when I've gotten food from Ab." Seamus nodded, his eye closing already.

* * *

Over the next few days, there were joined by more of their fellow DA members and the room expanded and added hammocks each time, the banner of Ravenclaw and then Hufflepuff joining the Gryffindor lion. When Lavender and Parvati showed up, the rudimentary loo transformed itself into a bathroom to rival that of the prefects and a long curtain separated a small section of the room with hammocks for the girls.

Seamus slowly healed, Ab only managing to get them a few vials of pain potion, which Seamus waved off, insisting that Neville save it for someone hurt worse than he was. The arrival of Padma Patil gave them someone who knew a few basic healing spells and Seamus could finally fully open his eyes again. His face remained bruised and puffy, Padma informing him that he had a cracked cheekbone as well as the ribs, but Seamus didn't much care.

Life in the Room was actually enjoyable. They had food and drinks, plenty of books, chess sets and exploding snap cards. The wireless had appeared the day after Seamus arrived, so they had Potterwatch to listen to again. After musing about missing flying one day, brooms appeared in the corner and the Room expanded further, the ceiling rising to allow for short flights. Lavender often joined him in his hammock at night, the nightmares she had keeping her from sleeping peacefully unless he had his arms around her. Nothing untoward happened between them, it would have been rather difficult anyway, given the proximity of the rest of their roommates, but it helped both of them sleep through the night and that was all that mattered to Seamus.

The day that Harry, Hermione and Ron showed up was the day that Seamus had been waiting for. But when Dean came through the passageway from the Hog's Head, Seamus whooped like a little boy. Looking around the room, he saw that the Gryffindor's were all together again, and that, Seamus realized, was the way it should have been from the beginning. Bruised, scarred and battered, it didn't matter. They were together and they would fight. And, Seamus knew, they would win.


	5. Kendra Dumbledore

**A/N - Kendra Dumbledore was my next character. Just a little warning, this one is pretty angsty. ;) Hope you like it! **

Kendra Dumbledore knew what everyone thought of her. She knew they thought she was cold and hard, haughty and proud. She knew that they thought she was ashamed of being a muggle-born, that she tried to hide behind her husband's pureblood status and pretend she was something that she wasn't. She knew they all thought that her daughter was a squib and that Kendra was mortified about this fact and hid Ariana away because of it. None of these things were true.

Blood status didn't matter to Kendra, it never had. She didn't go round talking about the fact that she was a muggle-born because she never really thought about it. She was a witch and the origins from whence she came didn't make a difference. It hadn't mattered to Percival either and so the subject was not one that they discussed.

Kendra had always wanted a daughter. She had been overjoyed, of course, when her eldest son Albus was born, but she knew that she wanted a girl as well. She lost three babies in quick succession after Albus. Two before she even really got used to the idea that she was to have another, but the third, with the third she had been nearly five months along. A girl, Percival had told her, stillborn in the night, a baby that Kendra had never seen. Kendra had almost followed her daughter that night, the loss of blood nearly too great for her body to overcome, but she had somehow pulled through after lying unconscious for nearly a week.

Terrified of losing his wife, Percival had refused to even consider trying for another child and Kendra had fallen into a deep depression for nearly a year afterward. Little Albus was the only thing that had kept her from retreating into herself altogether. Not quite three, he already had a sharp mind and quick wit, not to mention the power that Kendra could already sense. His magic had manifested when he was still in the cradle, a full year before Percival's and nearly two before Kendra's own had come about.

When Kendra had finally gotten pregnant again, for Percival could not indefinitely deny his wife something she wanted so desperately, he had hovered constantly, any mere twinge or grimace enough for him to have his head in the fire calling the healer. Kendra, while she continually protested and rolled her eyes at her husband's overprotectiveness, was actually quite petrified herself. And when Aberforth came into the world on time and healthy, she wept in relief and happiness, not even caring that her dream of a little girl seemed destined to remain just that, for she had promised Percival this pregnancy would be her last.

Kendra supposed that was why, when she surprisingly found herself pregnant once more when Aberforth was not even 9 months old, that the old insecurities returned. She had gotten pregnant for the second time when Albus was the same age and her mind continually travelled that dark road. She found herself pulling away from Aberforth, not wanting to let him into her heart only to leave him behind should something happen to her. If it were possible, she was more scared this time than she had been with Aberforth and she took to her bed, lest something should happen by her being too active.

Percival, on the other hand, seemed to take the opposite view, as if Aberforth's safe arrival had assured him that nothing bad would happen again. He cajoled and teased, pleaded and ordered his wife to take a more active role with their younger son, but Kendra refused. And so Percival became Aberforth's main caregiver, establishing a relationship with his younger son that would never exist between he and Albus.

Albus, for his part, kept up his relationship with his mother on his own. At four years old, he could already read and would sit at his mother's bedside or climb into bed and snuggle against her, reading books to her and telling her stories of his own making. It was he who was the first to know when his mother went into labor, floo-calling his father and then the healer to tend to his mother.

Kendra was not due for another month and tension, fear and despair lay over the house like a heavy blanket while she labored in her bedroom. When Ariana appeared, screaming lustily and seemingly perfect, although a bit on the small side, the house itself seemed to breathe a sigh of relief.

The birth of Ariana returned a joy to the house that had not been present since Albus first made his appearance. Her parents and her brothers doted on her in equal measure. Even 18-month old Aberforth was fascinated by his baby sister and the two were soon quite close.

Kendra could not get enough of her baby girl. She would sit in a rocking chair for hours, simply staring at the little girl, while Aberforth played at her feet and Albus read at the table. Percival was the same, Ariana having wrapped him round her finger from the start. As Ariana grew, she became the joy of all of their lives, her childish giggle the music of the house and her mischievous smile all that was needed to convince anyone to do anything.

While not a naughty child, Ariana was definitely curious and was given more free reign to do as she liked. Neither Kendra nor Percival could find it in their hearts to do more than half-hearted discipline. The quiver of the bottom lip and the brightening of her eyes was all it took for them to back down and wrap their daughter in a hug instead. While some children would have turned this to their advantage, Ariana did not. She truly did want to please her family and when she thought that she hadn't, it was always remorse, not fear of punishment that caused her distress.

This, Kendra knew, was why they had never pressed Ariana about accidental magic or sat her down and had the serious talk with her that they had with both Albus and Aberforth about the Statute of Secrecy. The fact that Mould-on-the-Wold was a mostly wizarding village also kept their worries at bay, although there were some muggles nearby.

When Ariana was attacked and tortured by the muggle boys that had seen her doing accidental magic, Kendra felt as if her heart had been ripped from her chest. Ariana's resulting catatonia that lasted for nearly three weeks, followed by the huge outburst of magic which had nearly set the house ablaze, made Kendra feel as if her heart had then been stomped on by a herd of hippogriffs and stuffed back into her chest, broken and bleeding, but expected to function just the same.

When Percival had come home and told her what he'd done, Kendra knew that their perfect, idyllic life was completely over. The two had discussed it and Percival swore to her that he would never tell the Ministry why he had attacked the boys. They both knew it meant a life sentence in Azkaban, but neither would allow Ariana to be locked up for the rest of her life. And so after Percival had been sentenced, Kendra had quietly packed up her family and moved to Godric's Hollow.

Once they arrived, Kendra put on her mask of indifference and went about her life. She did not mingle with her neighbors lest one of them find out her secret. Kendra had hope that she could bring her daughter back to herself. The child was merely six and children were naturally resilient, surely with time and love from her mother and brothers, Ariana would heal.

Things did not go as Kendra hoped, however. Albus went off to Hogwarts leaving her with just Aberforth for company. Aberforth had become an angry, sullen child and took it out on his mother. He was angry with his father for what he had done to get himself incarcerated and he blamed his mother for allowing it to happen. The only one who saw Aberforth's gentle side was Ariana. And even Kendra had to admit that her son could work miracles when Kendra could not. There were days Ariana refused to eat or times she got so angry that only Aberforth's quiet, soothing voice could reach her.

She knew that Aberforth understood why they could not take Ariana to St. Mungo's or call in a mind healer, but Kendra also knew that the boy was just eight and he wanted his baby sister back the way that she had been. The longer things remained the same, the more frustrated Kendra became. She missed her husband desperately, she missed her eldest son's wit and her youngest son's carefree ways. But most of all, she missed her baby girl, her giggles and her sparkling eyes and that mischievous grin that said that she was up to something. Kendra missed her life.

That was why she became angry and withdrawn. That was why she refused to talk to the neighbors and became cold and calculating. That was why everyone thought she was a stuck-up snob that pretended to be a pureblood. That was why she let everyone think that he daughter was a squib and that Kendra was ashamed of her. That was why she let her relationship with her youngest son deteriorate beyond repair.

Those muggle boys had taken everything from Kendra the day they took her daughter's innocence and trust. Kendra let the hatred and the anger fuel her, for if she didn't, she knew that she would simply let the despair overwhelm her and lay down and die. And so, she let everyone think what they liked, even though none of it was true.


	6. Remus Lupin

**A/N - Remus Lupin was my character this time, one of my faves! This was also written for the Importance of a Father challenge, also on HPFC. Hope you enjoy! **

**New Beginnings**

**April 1998**

"One more time Nymphadora, come on now," Andromeda instructed her daughter as she sat on a stool at the foot of the bed.

"Don't. Call. Me. That." Tonks hissed and Remus swore he saw a smirk cross Andromeda's face. He looked back at his wife who gripped his hand even more tightly and with one more heaving grunt, she pushed their baby into the world. Tonks flopped back tiredly in the bed, but sat up again quickly at the loud cry that filled the room.

"It's a boy," Andromeda announced with a smile.

"A boy," Tonks repeated with a wide grin, tears filling her eyes. "Is he all right?" Andromeda had continued working on the baby, cutting the cord and wrapping him in a blanket.

"He's perfect," Andromeda said, gently handing her grandson to her daughter. Remus, who had remained silent for the last few minutes, looked at the small bundle that lay in his wife's arms. Andromeda put a hand on his shoulder and gave it a squeeze. Remus looked up in surprise. His mother-in-law had not been particularly friendly towards him since he and Dora had gotten married. Quite the opposite in fact.

"I've made the potion and I collected a bit of his blood already," she said quietly to Remus as Tonks cooed at the baby. "I'll do the test, but Remus I meant what I said. He is perfect." Remus nodded, Andromeda's instant acceptance of her grandson, regardless of whether he had lycanthropy or not, was enough to cause a large lump to form in Remus' throat.

"Thank you," he finally managed to say. "For everything." Andromeda nodded and slipped from the room. Remus turned back to his wife and son. His son. Sweet Merlin.

Remus moved closer to Tonks on the bed and looked down at the baby lying in her arms. His eyes were closed and he had a small thatch of black hair on his head. While Remus watched, the baby opened his eyes and blinked at them.

"He's beautiful, isn't he?" Tonks asked and Remus could only nod. "What shall we call him?" They hadn't spoken of names much, but the first one that popped into his mind when Dora asked was the right one, he knew.

"Ted," he said. "For your father." Tonks turned and put a hand to his cheek, smiled and kissed him quickly.

"Ted Remus Lupin," she said. "Teddy." She looked back down at the baby with a smile and snuggled into Remus' side. Remus put an arm around her and cupped his son's head in his hand. The three sat there and contemplated each other for what seemed like forever and nothing more than an instant all at the same time.

Andromeda came back into the room and when Remus looked up he saw tears running down her face. His heart instantly dropped to his stomach and he made to stand. Andromeda shook her head and smiled.

"He's fine Remus," she said through her tears. "I did the test three times to be sure. He's well and truly fine." Remus couldn't breathe for a few seconds and when he finally did, it came out as a strangled gasp. Andromeda left the room again and Tonks turned to her husband and kissed him again.

"I told you it would be all right," she said quietly. Remus nodded and looked back down at his son.

"Is his hair turning red?" Remus asked incredulously. Tonks glanced down as well and grinned.

"Seems so," she said with a laugh. "Mum said mine started turning minutes after I was born."

"Well Teddy, if you had to inherit something strange from your parents, this was the thing to pick," Remus said, running a finger down his son's cheek. Teddy turned toward the finger, rooting with his mouth. He began to make small noises of protest when he couldn't find what he was searching for.

"Now you've done it," Tonks said, adjusting the nightgown she wore and moving her son toward her chest. Remus watched in awe of his wife and his son who seemed to know exactly what to do. "Why don't you go and tell the others? Talk to Harry."

"Are you sure?" Remus asked. "I don't want to leave you alone already."

"Mum's here," Tonks said, grimacing and shifting Teddy around a bit. "And I have a feeling this one will be busy for a while," she said indicating the baby with a tip of her head. Remus chuckled.

"I won't stay long," he assured her, standing and pulling on his cloak. He bent down and kissed her and then kissed his son's small head. He then left the room, passing Andromeda who was on her way back in, and disapparted from the garden unable to keep the large grin from his face.

* * *

Remus returned to the house from Shell Cottage to find Dora and Teddy both asleep in the bed where he had left them. The sheets had been cleaned and Tonks wore a different nightgown, Teddy was wrapped in a new blanket with a small cap on his head. Andromeda was sitting in the chair beside the bed.

"Everything all right there?" she asked and Remus nodded.

"They were all very excited," he said. "Harry agreed to be godfather." Andromeda smiled and stood.

"I'm off to bed then," she said. "If you need anything just wake me."

"Thank you Andromeda," Remus replied, taking the woman's hand in his. "I know that you haven't really approved of Dora and me, but," Andromeda stopped him with a hand to his arm.

"If these last few months have taught me anything it's that life is short and can change in an instant," Andromeda said with a sad sigh. "I was wrong about you and about your relationship with my daughter. You're a good man Remus and I know that you love her. And I know that you'll be a good father to your son." With one last pat to his arm, Andromeda turned and left the room.

Remus took her place in the chair by the bed, watching his wife and son sleep. After a few minutes Teddy began to stir, whimpering and mewling in his blankets. Remus hesitated. It had been nearly 17 years since he'd held a baby after all, but he knew that Dora was exhausted. He gingerly picked up his son and sat down on the bed. He pulled his knees up and gently laid Teddy down so the baby was propped on his legs.

Teddy's eyes were wide open, looking at his father. Remus gently removed the cap from his son's head and saw that Teddy's hair was indeed blonde now, just as Remus had predicted at Shell Cottage. He chuckled. Remus unwrapped the blanket, not having gotten a good look at his son yet.

Teddy's little arms flailed as the blanket was unfolded and Remus placed a finger in each of Teddy's palms. He was rewarded by small fingers curling around his.

"Ten fingers," Remus commented. "How about the toes?" He gently pulled one of his fingers free and pulled the blanket the rest of the way back. His son wore a nappy and a small shirt, plus a tiny pair of socks. "Your grandma really wants to make this difficult for me, doesn't she?" he winked at his son and removed his other finger from Teddy's grasp. Remus pulled off the socks and played with his little boy's feet. "Ten there too," he said. Teddy began to whimper again.

"All right, enough torturing, let's get you put back together," Remus said, trying to put one the socks back on Teddy's now flailing foot. The task was made more difficult by the fact the socks seemed to be tinier than Remus' little finger and when Teddy's arms joined his flailing legs, Remus huffed in frustration. Teddy began to get a bit louder, small cries joining his whimpers from time to time, as Remus still struggled to get the socks back on the baby's feet.

"Just hold still a minute, Teddy," Remus urged his son, whose face was now screwing for what Remus suspected would be an all-out scream. Remus glanced over at his wife, who was beginning to stir. Not wanting to wake Tonks, Remus finally gave up on the socks and hastily wrapped the blanket back around his son, standing quickly and beginning to walk back and forth across the room.

"Shh," he said to the baby, gently rocking him in his arms. "We don't want to wake up your mummy. She worked very hard tonight to get you here. Let's let her rest all right?" Teddy quieted for a few minutes and Remus sat back down in the chair near the bed. As soon as the movement stopped, Teddy let out a loud wail and Remus instantly jumped to his feet. He shifted the baby to his shoulder and began to walk again.

"It's all right little man, Daddy's here," he soothed, rubbing small circles on Teddy's back. Daddy. The word hit him like a bludger between the eyes. He was someone's father. Teddy was really here and Remus, Remus was really a dad. The thought almost made Remus' knees buckle and tears came unbidden to his eyes. He hugged his son to him. To think that he might have missed this moment had Harry made a different choice all those months ago when Remus had shown up at Grimmauld Place. A part of Remus knew that he didn't deserve this happiness for all that he had put his wife through those months ago. He'd been so stupid. A fierce wave of protectiveness and love washed over him.

"I love you Teddy Lupin," he whispered. "I will protect you with all that I am and everything that I have and I will be with you always, no matter what happens." He nuzzled his son's tiny head and breathed in his sweet baby scent. Remus stopped in front of the window and opened the curtains a tiny bit to look out into the still night. Swaying back and forth and humming a lullaby that he didn't even realize he knew, he felt the rise and fall of his son's tiny breaths as Teddy drifted off to sleep and Remus smiled.

No one knew what would come tomorrow or the next day or the day after that, but tonight, tonight everything was perfect in Remus Lupin's world.


	7. Colin Creevey

**A/N - Colin Creevey was my character this time. Hope you like it! **

**July 1992**

"Got it Mum!" Colin called as he raced to the front door. "Then I'm going to meet Kevin."

"All right Colin, be home by dinner," his mother answered from the kitchen. Colin wrenched open the door and froze at the sight of the woman standing on the front step. She was tall, her black hair in a tight bun on her head and she wore square-framed spectacles perched on her nose. Colin gulped nervously.

"Good afternoon," the woman said. "Mr. Creevey, I presume."

"Ye-yes," Colin managed to answer. Something about the formidable woman before him made him want to stand up straight and be sure his hair wasn't mussed. He forgot all about meeting Kevin.

"My name is Minerva McGonagall. I would like to speak with you and your parents if I may," she said.

"Oh, erm, sure. Come in," Colin said, opening the door a bit wider and ushering the woman inside. He led her into the lounge. "I'll just go and get them, shall I?" She gave him a nod and Colin turned, running directly into his mother who was wiping her hands on a dish towel and coming from the kitchen.

"Colin, who was at the d-, oh, hello," Colin's mother said, noticing the other woman in the room.

"Mrs. Creevey, a pleasure to meet you. My name is Minerva McGonagall and I am a professor and the Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts School," Professor McGonagall said, holding out her hand to Colin's mother. The two shook hands.

"Hogwarts School?" Mrs. Creevey repeated a confused look on her face. "I don't think that I'm familiar with it."

"No, I don't think that you would be," Professor McGonagall said kindly. "Is your husband at home? I would like to talk to both of you if possible."

"Yes, he's out back," Mrs. Creevey replied. "Colin, go and get your father." Colin had been standing in silence watching the exchange between his mother and the professor.

"Oh, Dad, right," Colin said and walked to the back door, glancing over his shoulder at the professor. There was something about the woman that made him feel different, almost as if there were some kind of power emanating from her.

"Dad!" Colin called as he went into the back garden. His father came out of the shed, wiping his brow with his arm.

"What's up Col?" his dad asked.

"There's a woman here, a professor from a school that wants to talk to you and Mum," Colin said. His younger brother Dennis came out of the shed behind his father.

"School? What school?" his father asked.

"Dunno, Hog-something," Colin replied, furrowing his brow trying to remember. "You'd better just come." Colin turned and hurried inside, followed by his father and younger brother.

"Ah Mr. Creevey, hello," the professor said, standing and shaking his father's hand. "Perhaps we should all sit down." She took the chair behind her, perching on the edge, her back ramrod straight. Colin's parents sat down on the couch, Colin sitting on the arm and Dennis on the floor leaning against his mother's legs.

"As I told your wife, my name is Minerva McGonagall and I am a professor and the Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts School," she said. "We are interested in having your son Colin attend our school this fall." Colin's mouth dropped open. A school wanted _him_?

"I'm sorry Mrs. McGonagall, but just where is this Hogwarts School located?" his father said in confusion. "I've never heard of it."

"We are a boarding school located in Scotland," the professor replied.

"I'm not sure I understand," Mr. Creevey said. "Not that my son isn't smart, but he's not top of his class or anything. How exactly did you get his name? Was he referred by his current school?" The professor gave his father a small smile.

"Mr. Creevey, have you ever noticed Colin doing anything unusual, something that you couldn't explain?" she asked. "Something that perhaps seemed impossible or almost…magical?" Colin's parents glanced quickly at each other and Colin stared at the professor. There had been that time that the spinach his mother had been trying to get him to eat had mysteriously disappeared from his plate and no amount of searching caused it to turn up. And then there was the time a few years ago that Colin and his friend Kevin had watched that really scary movie. When his mother had put him to bed that night and turned off his light, it had somehow turned itself back on once she'd left the room. It happened three separate times before his mother just gave up and left it on. When his father had checked the wiring the next morning, he hadn't found anything wrong and it hadn't happened again.

"As I said, I am from Hogwarts School," the professor continued. "Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Your son Colin is a wizard." This statement was met with complete silence. It was his mum that recovered her voice first.

"But that's, that's preposterous," she spluttered. Professor McGonagall gave her an indulgent smile.

"I assure you Mrs. Creevey that while difficult to believe, it is most certainly true." She pulled what looked like a stick from the sleeve of her dress and directed it at the vase of flowers on the end table. One flick and the vase rose above the table. The professor directed it to the table at the opposite end of the couch, settling it quietly into place. Colin stared at her open-mouthed.

"You mean I can do that?" he asked.

"With a wand and a bit of training, yes," the professor replied. "And, if I'm not mistaken, your younger brother is magical as well." She turned and looked at Dennis. "I would have to check the official roster, of course, but I am confident that I am right. Most unusual, actually, having two wizards from the same muggle family."

"What's a muggle?" Colin asked.

"A muggle is what witches and wizards call non-magical people," Professor McGonagall explained. She reached into the bag that she was carrying and pulled out an envelope. "This is your official invitation to attend Hogwarts, along with your book and supply list. Our term begins on September the first and the Hogwarts Express leaves from platform 9 ¾ at King's Cross Station." She handed the envelope to Colin who tore it open eagerly.

"Whoa, look at all this stuff," he said excitedly. Dennis had come to peer over his shoulder. "Cauldron, wand, robes. Where do we get all of this?"

"Oh of course, forgive me," Professor McGonagall said. "There is a magical street located in London called Diagon Alley. You can find everything you need there. The entrance is," but Colin's father interrupted her.

"Now wait just a minute," he said. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude, but you can't just come in here and show us a magic trick and then expect to take our son to Scotland!"

"Mr. and Mrs. Creevey, I understand your hesitation, but I assure you that what I just showed you was not a 'trick' as you say," the professor said. "If you like, I can show you something else, which may serve to convince you." Mr. Creevey nodded sharply and the professor stood from her chair and moved closer to the door to the back garden. A few seconds later a tabby cat sat in her place.

Colin blinked in astonishment and stared at the cat which swished its tail. He could see some markings around the cat's eyes which looked suspiciously like the glasses the professor had been wearing. Seconds later, the cat had disappeared and the professor once again stood before them.

"Wicked," Colin whispered and Dennis nodded in agreement. Colin glanced at his parents who looked dumbstruck.

"Colin, perhaps you and Dennis would give your parents and I a few minutes to speak privately," Professor McGonagall said with a small smile.

"C'mon Dennis," Colin said, grabbing his brother's arm and running upstairs to his bedroom. The two boys shut the door and sat down on Colin's bed, examining the letter and list again.

"Do you think it's true Col?" Dennis asked. Colin shrugged his shoulders.

"Must be, don't you think?" Colin replied. "Otherwise how'd they get my name?"

"But me too?" Dennis asked in awe.

"Sure, you've done stuff too, same as me," Colin said. "Remember that time you got stuck in that tree in the park and by the time I got back with Dad you were back on the ground? You said that you floated down."

"Yeah," Dennis said. "But a magic school Col? That's brilliant!"

"I know," Colin said, eyes shining with excitement. "Wonder what it's like?" The two boys spent the next half hour discussing what Hogwarts could possibly be like. When their parents came into the room, Colin stood from his bed, looking at them expectantly.

"Where's the professor?" he asked.

"She's gone," his father said, unreadable expression on his face. His mum looked like she was going to cry.

"So, can I go then?" Colin finally asked. His dad looked at his mum and then back at his son.

"Yes, Colin, you can go," his dad said, grin breaking over his face. Colin's smile was even wider as he threw his arm around his father's waist. Dennis began jumping on Colin's bed in excitement.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," Colin said, then turned and hugged his mother, repeating his thanks.

"One condition though," his father said, gesturing to his mother, who pulled something out from behind his back. It was an old camera that Colin thought had belonged to his great grandfather.

"We want to know all about it," his dad said. Colin's grin was so huge, it took up his entire face. He took the camera from his mother.

"Don't worry Dad, I'll make sure I get pictures of _everything_," Colin assured him.


	8. Gabrielle Delacour

**A/N - Gabrielle Delacour was my character this chapter. While I have written Fleur's accented English before, in another fic I figured that if the two were home together, they would be speaking French, not accented English, so I didn't write it that way for this. This one is a bit shorter than most of the others, but hope you enjoy the sister fluff! **

**October 1994**

"Please, Fleur, please do not go," Gabrielle begged again as they sat on the bed in her sister's room. Fleur had arrived home earlier that afternoon via special portkey. She had informed her family that she intended to go with the contingent of Beauxbatons students to Hogwarts to participate in the TriWizard Tournament. Madame Maxime had allowed all of the students that were interested to go home for the weekend and discuss it with their families.

"It is only for the school year, Gabrielle," Fleur replied. "You do not see me then anyway."

"But you will miss Christmas," Gabrielle pouted. Gabrielle had only been two years old when Fleur went off to Beauxbatons and so could not remember what it had been like to have her home all the time. But Fleur always came home for Christmas.

"It is only for one year," Fleur said, tapping her sister lightly on the nose. "And there is to be a ball. You know how much I love to dance." Fleur stood and pulled Gabrielle up with her, waltzing her around the room. Gabrielle couldn't help but giggle as her sister twirled her. The two collapsed on Fleur's bed after a few minutes.

"But Maman says it is dangerous," Gabrielle said, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth.

"Maman worries about everything," Fleur returned, rolling her eyes at her sister. "Besides, who is the smartest witch you know?" She reached out and tickled her sister's sides. Gabrielle collapsed into giggles on the bed.

"You," she finally managed to gasp out in her laughter.

"That is right," Fleur said with a nod, releasing her sister from her torture. "So I will have no problem now, will I?"

"But Fleur," Gabrielle said, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Durmstrang is to compete. You know what they say about students from that school."

"Gabrielle you must not listen to such ridiculous gossip," Fleur said, dismissing her sister's concerns with a wave of her hand. "Madame Maxime would not allow us to participate if she thought we would be harmed by other students." Fleur stood and went to her dressing table, pulling her hair up into a twist. "Shall I wear my hair like this for the ball?"

"Fleur," Gabrielle protested. Fleur sighed and turned round in her chair, holding a hand out to her little sister. Gabrielle approached tentatively until she was within reach of Fleur who pulled her into a hug.

"It will be all right," Fleur said, stroking her sister's hair. "I will write all the time and maybe you and Maman can come and watch some of the tournament if I am chosen."

"But I will miss you," Gabrielle said quietly. Although nine years her sister's junior, the two had always been close. They rarely argued and Fleur let Gabrielle tag along with her most of the time.

"And I will miss you, ma cherie, but it is only for a little while," Fleur replied. "I will be back this summer just like I always am."

"What if you don't come back?" Gabrielle whispered so quietly, she wasn't even sure if she had said it aloud. But then Fleur pulled away from her and looked at her sister in confusion.

"Why would I not come back?" Fleur asked.

"Maybe you will meet a boy and fall in love," Gabrielle blurted out, not wanting to give voice to her real fear that something would happen to her sister during the tournament. Fleur stared at her for a moment and then burst into laughter.

"Ah, Gabrielle, you know that all the best looking men are in France," she said with a wink. "Come now, do not worry about that anymore. Tell me how you like my hair best." Fleur spun around in her chair, facing the mirror again. Gabrielle stood next to her and commented on the different styles her sister was showing her, smiling along with Fleur. But all the while, Gabrielle was studying her sister's face as if she might never see it again. She could not explain it, but Gabrielle felt as if something was going to happen in Scotland, something that would change all of their lives forever. A shiver of foreboding ran down her spine and Gabrielle moved behind Fleur, wrapping her arms around her sister's neck tightly.

"I love you Fleur," Gabrielle whispered in her sister's ear. Fleur smiled at her in the mirror.

"Oh, my Gabrielle, I love you too," Fleur replied, patting her sister's arm. "Come and sit with me." She pulled Gabrielle onto her lap. And the two spent the rest of the afternoon laughing and talking, Gabrielle tucking her worries so as not to ruin the day with her sister.


	9. Justin Finch-Fletchley

**A/N - My next character was Justin Finch-Fletchley. I got this idea after helping my daughter with her homework on the Underground Railroad during the American Civil War. We don't know what Justin did during DH or if he even fought in the Final Battle. Thinking on Hufflepuff's nature to be loyal, fair and hard-working the idea for this one-shot made sense to me. Enjoy! **

**August 1997**

Justin blew lightly on his tea before taking a sip. He pulled the copy of the Daily Prophet towards him. The headline made him furrow his brow and as he read the article, his mouth dropped open. His hand began to shake, tea slopping over the side and burning him. Hissing in pain, he dropped his cup, which shattered on the table.

"Justin?" his mother called from the kitchen. "Is everything all right?"

"Fine, Mother," Justin replied. "Just spilled my tea." With a wave of his wand and a muttered spell, the tea cup repaired itself and the spilled tea vanished. Justin picked the paper up once again and reread the article.

Minutes later, he heard a small crack outside and stood, heading for the door with his wand drawn. Peeking out the window next to the door, he relaxed when he saw it was only Ernie.

"Ernie, what are you doing here?" Justin asked as soon as he opened the door. Ernie looked around as if he thought he was being followed and then hurried inside the house. He shut the door and threw up an imperturbable charm on it. "Ernie what on earth?" Without saying anything, Ernie grabbed his friend's arm and towed him to Justin's bedroom, closing that door and imperturbing it as well.

"Did you read the Prophet this morning?" Ernie asked without preamble.

"Yes, just," Justin replied.

"You've got to get out of here," Ernie said.

"What are you talking about?" Justin asked.

"Don't you see Justin?" Ernie exclaimed. "The Ministry's been taken over! I'd bet every galleon we have that Scrimgeour didn't resign willingly. That is if he's still even alive."

"How do you know that?" Justin questioned.

"My great-grandfather used to work in the Department of Mysteries," Ernie said. "First off, they don't report what they research to hardly anyone and anything they did find would never have been in the Daily Prophet or if it was, it never would have been credited to them. They're called the Department of Mysteries for more than one reason. Second, you know as well as I do that it's a load of dragon dung that muggle-borns 'stole' their magic. You-Know-Who's taken the Ministry and he's getting rid of the muggle-borns." Justin stared at his friend, knowing he was right.

"You can stay with us," Ernie continued. "Our estate is warded like crazy; no one would find you there." But Justin was already shaking his head.

"Everyone knows we're friends," Justin said. "When they don't find me here where's the next place you think they would look? Besides I can't leave my mother unprotected."

"Where will you go then?" Ernie asked. A plan was already forming in Justin's mind, but he didn't dare tell his friend.

"I've got an idea, but it's probably better if you don't know," Justin said. "You and I both know what the Death Eaters are capable of." Ernie nodded grimly. "How long do you think I have?"

"I don't know for sure, but if they're going to do this survey thing first and then start bringing people in for questioning, a few days at least," Ernie replied.

"All right, I've got to talk to my mother," Justin said. "Can you come back later, for dinner maybe?"

"Yeah, sure," Ernie said. The two said their good-byes and Ernie disapparated from his friend's bedroom. Justin stood and stared at the place that Ernie had just been and then took a deep breath before going and speaking to his mother.

* * *

And so it was a week later that Justin found himself on a ferry on the way to France with his mother and five other muggle-borns, one with her family and the others on their own. He stood at the back rail of the boat watching the shore of England drift away and feeling a bit like he was running away instead of staying to fight.

Since the conversation between he and Ernie in his bedroom, Justin had spoken to his mother about their house in France. It had belonged to his mother's grandmother, so it wasn't traceable through the Finch-Fletchley name. They had gone there a couple of times on holiday when he was younger, but the place was a bit run-down. His parents had intended on fixing it up, but after they divorced when Justin was six, his mother hadn't had the inclination to do much with the place.

After explaining the danger that he was in, Justin's mother had lost no time in agreeing to the move and the two had begun packing almost immediately. Waiting for Ernie that night, Justin had started thinking of all the younger muggle-borns in his house, the ones that were probably in more danger than he was, given that they couldn't even do magic legally yet. When Ernie arrived the two boys had made a list of the rest of the 'Puffs that they knew were muggle-born.

"What about the Creevey's?" Ernie had asked.

"Any idea where they live?" Justin asked. Ernie shook his head.

"We could send an owl though," Ernie said. "Angus should be able to find them."

"Put them on the list," Justin had agreed.

In the end, Ernie's owl hadn't been able to find the two boys, so maybe they'd already gone somewhere themselves. Of the seven muggle-borns in Hufflepuff they'd contacted, five had agreed to come with them, one second-year girl insisting that her entire family join them. When Justin had looked at the picture the girl had enclosed with her letter and set eyes on the three-year old twins, not to mention the older boy that looked around seven, in it, he hadn't been able to refuse. Having another five people along would crowd the house to its limits, but they would manage.

Justin did worry for the families of the other four students. He wasn't sure just how far the new Ministry would go to find the missing muggle-borns, but knowing the Death Eaters and their hatred of muggles, Justin wouldn't put it past them to torture or, he shuddered; even kill the families when the children could not be located. Justin had visited each family personally and urged them to relocate themselves for their own safety. All but one refused, citing jobs and other non-magical children's schooling as their excuses. And two had flat-out refused to let their magical children come with him, not believing that any government in this day and age could possibly purposely harm innocent children. Justin had begged and pleaded to no avail, but he could see the fear and understanding in his housemates eyes. Those looks haunted him still, whenever he closed his eyes and tried to sleep.

The day before they left, Ernie had brought rumors that muggle-borns were already being sent to Azkaban, their wands confiscated and snapped. For days Justin had been moving at such a frantic pace, trying to pack and secure passage for as many of his fellow students as he could, that he didn't have time to think. But now that they were, presumably, safely on their way to France, Justin could do nothing _but _think.

He stuck his hand in his pocket, fingering the gold galleon he had put there just before they'd left. It would be his only source of news now, news that was actually true at any rate. He had no doubt that the DA would reform, especially now that Snape had been installed as Headmaster and Hogwarts was compulsory for all magical children, save muggle-borns. He'd gotten that bit of information just last night in a special evening edition of the Daily Prophet.

Justin sighed knowing that he would miss his last year of school. He'd shrunk all his school-books from all six years and brought them along. At least the younger students could study the theory and texts. Justin wasn't sure what the underage magic laws were in France, nor was he sure if students could be traced all the way there from the UK, but he was taking no chances. He did intend to find out once they arrived and if he had to, he would by everyone a new wand in France, one that the UK traces couldn't find.

At least he could use magic and Ernie had lent him a book on wards, teaching him a few of the more basic ones before he left. Shannon Graves, a 6th year that was with them would be 17 in just a few weeks, so she would soon be able to help him, new wand or no.

His mind drifted to the other muggle-borns at Hogwarts that he didn't know and wondered if they were all right. He never worried much about Hermione. He assumed she was with Harry and Ron and regardless, the girl was fearsome in her own right with her knowledge of spells and hexes. Dean Thomas was another that crossed his mind, but he hadn't had a chance to look for his fellow seventh-year and he wasn't as worried about those of age anyway. And then there were the first years that had been identified, but not allowed to attend Hogwarts. Justin worried about them most, knowing that all had probably been notified by Professor McGonagall or Flitwick a month before about their magical status. They would have no idea just what danger they were in or where to go for help.

"This is a good thing you've done," his mother's voice said behind him, pulling him from his thoughts. She stepped forward and wrapped an arm around his waist.

"I can't help feeling like I'm running away like some kind of coward," Justin said, the coast of England a mere dot in the distance now.

"How is keeping five other children from harm, running away?" his mother asked. Justin shrugged. "Let me tell you something, Justin. In every war, every conflict on the face of this earth, there has always been people like you. They may not have carried the weapons or manned the front lines, but they did things that were just as important, sometimes more so, behind the scenes. You don't know who these children will grow up to be," his mother continued, gesturing with her hand towards the staterooms they had procured for everyone. "Maybe one of them will be the next great leader of your world or come up with a cure for some horrible disease or affliction. Maybe they will be teachers or healers or discover new spells or creatures. Or maybe, they will remember that a virtual stranger held out his arms and wrapped them in safety and allowed them to go on to live their lives as they should have. And they will teach that compassion to their children and their children's children and their children's children's children. And then maybe someday, someday there will not be wars like this anymore. And no other mother or father will ever have to make the kind of decision these children's parents had to make, to send them off with a wish and a prayer that they would be safe and come back healthy and whole."

Justin looked at his mother and saw that tears were running down her cheeks. She pulled him into a fierce hug and whispered into his ear.

"You are not a coward," she said. "You have left everything behind to help someone else. I know that you want nothing more than to be there fighting alongside your friends, but you have set that aside and put other's needs before your own. That, my son, is its own special kind of bravery." Justin hugged his mother and looked out over the water. He made a vow then that he would do everything he could, not just to keep the children that were with him safe, but to teach them everything that he knew. Maybe there was a way they could bring over even more people. While the house itself was not all that large, the grounds were extensive. He had heard about those magical tents that looked small but were the sizes of flats inside.

As his mind began to whirl with the possibilities, his mother pulled back from him and patted his cheek with a smile. She left him standing at the rail deep in thought, knowing that her son would save as many as he could or die trying.


	10. Petunia Dursley

**A/N - So this didn't go exactly where I thought it was going to, but I decided that I liked it nonetheless. Enjoy! **

**1 November 1981**

Petunia Dursley knew what was expected of her. Every morning she rose early and readied herself for the day before retrieving Dudley from his cot. While Vernon got ready for work, Petunia dressed Dudley and took him downstairs and put him in his high chair while she made breakfast for Vernon and her son. Once Vernon left for work, Petunia cleaned the kitchen until it sparkled and then took Dudley to the play park. After lunch while Dudley napped, Petunia would clean the house or do the laundry before she made dinner for her two men. She would listen to Vernon's rants about the government or lazy layabouts or the freaks on the underground, smiling and commiserating when appropriate. She would put her precious Dudders to bed and sit in the lounge while Vernon watched the telly before bed. Today would be no different.

And so it was when Petunia opened the front door to put out the milk bottles, she was shocked into silence. Lying on the step was a small bundle that did not belong there. Petunia glanced up and down the street as if searching for the person who had left such an anomaly on her doorstep. Her head jerked back to the blankets when she heard a small noise coming from them. Squatting down, Petunia pulled back the topmost blanket and gasped at the sight before her. A baby, no older than her Dudley looked up at her with eyes she had not seen for quite a few years. But they were eyes that she would recognize anywhere.

"Lily," Petunia whispered. She knew that her sister had a child. Lily had sent her a letter shortly after the child's birth informing her of this fact. However, Petunia could not understand how the child had come to be on her front step. Had Lily come for a visit and left the baby for a moment for some reason? Although why her sister would come to visit, Petunia had no idea. She had made it more than clear the last time they had spoken that Petunia wanted nothing to do with Lily and her freakish ways.

But still, why was the boy here? Had Lily left him because she couldn't care for him any longer? Or maybe that good-for-nothing husband of hers had decided he didn't want to be burdened with the responsibility of a child and forced Lily to bring the boy here. Maybe Lily was running away from him and had come to Petunia for refuge.

If Petunia were honest with herself, which she rarely was except in the deepest recesses of her mind, she did miss her sister. If that stupid letter had never arrived when Lily was eleven, Petunia had no doubt that the two of them would still be close. Perhaps they would have raised their boys together, even lived on the same street. There was a small part of Petunia that wished for that kind of relationship. If Lily were running away, Petunia would take her in, her and her son, as long as Lily agreed to forget about all of that unnaturalness and just be a normal person.

The baby made a noise and Petunia looked back down at him again. The little boy smiled and Petunia found herself smiling back. He waved his small arms and the blanket fell back, revealing an envelope. Petunia was just about to reach for it when she heard Vernon's voice bellow behind her.

"Petunia, what's taking so long?" he called. "Dudley's whining for his milk." Petunia glanced back into the kitchen in fear. If Vernon saw her crouched down on their doorstep smiling at a baby which was clearly her freakish sister's, he would turn that shade of purple that indicated he was about to explode. And so she stood and did the one thing she knew would be expected of her. She screamed.

And when Vernon demanded that she pick the child up and hurry inside with him before the neighbor's saw, Petunia did that too. She read the letter and agreed with Vernon about the audacity of those 'freaks' to just foist the boy on them like this and the nerve of her sister and her husband to get themselves blown up and saddle Petunia and Vernon with their brat. She would promise Vernon that they would 'stamp the freakishness' out of the boy and never, ever mention the 'm' word in the house. She would ignore the boy's cries to be picked up and cuddled while she tended to Dudley. And she would mirror Vernon's look of disgust at the boy before he left for work.

And no matter how Lily's boy tugged at her heartstrings with his huge green eyes and his contagious smile, she would tuck those feelings away deep down where no one could ever find them, least of all her. She would put all of her love and energy into Dudley and ignore the small cries and pleading looks of her nephew. Because Petunia Dursley knew what was expected of her and that is exactly what she would do.


	11. Lee Jordan

**A/N - I had the hardest time deciding what to write about Lee. He's one of the minor characters that I've never thought too much about. Here is what I eventually came up with. **

**3 August 1997**

"What a load of dung," George said, throwing the paper down on the counter. "Scrimgeour resigned, my arse."

"You-Know-Who's got hold of the Prophet as well as the Ministry," Fred agreed in disgust. "Suppose the WWN will be next."

"How is anyone going to get actual news then?" Lee asked in exasperation.

"First rule of a dictator, Lee," George said. "Control all the information the public gets."

"Have you heard anything about Harry and the others?" Lee asked, but Fred shook his head.

"No and Mum's going spare," Fred replied. "Dad sent that Patronus, but he wouldn't let them respond, so we're not sure where they are. We think Headquarters though." Lee nodded. He had recently joined the Order.

"Well, I'm off," Lee said. "I'll see you at the meeting tomorrow?" Fred and George nodded. Lee left the shop, deep in thought.

Fred and George were his best friends, but Lee had to admit that he sometimes felt left out. The two were very close, as was to be expected given they were twins, but it was a bond that Lee would never have with either of them. He loved helping out in the shop and he had come up with a few ideas for products, but Fred and George were the brains behind everything.

Lee could hold his own in Defense and he wasn't too shabby at Charms either, but he was nowhere near as smart as the twins. He knew that most people thought Fred and George were just jokesters, not serious about much of anything, but Lee knew different. The two were brilliant. They just chose not to put their energies into things that didn't really interest them, hence their rather uninspired grades at Hogwarts.

Lee knew that his friends were developing things that the Order could use during the war. Some of them completely boggled his mind when Fred or George tried to explain them to him. And while he had joined the Order, Lee wasn't feeling particularly useful these days. His biggest claim to fame was that he had commentated the school Quidditch matches for seven years. Not much need for that during a war he thought dryly.

Lee stopped in his tracks, an idea starting to coalesce in his mind. It would take a bit of figuring out that was for sure. But Lee thought it was definitely possible. Perhaps there was a need for his commentating after all.

* * *

**3 September 1997**

"Did you hear?" Lee asked as he hurried inside Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.

"Yeah," Fred said with a gleam in his eye. "Never thought he had it in him, old Ronnie." Lee detected a bit of pride in his friend's voice.

"Where's George?" Lee questioned looking around the shop.

"Had to go pick up some supplies," Fred said and Lee nodded knowingly.

"Listen, I've been thinking," Lee began.

"Always a dangerous prospect," Fred quipped.

"Shut it Weasley," Lee retorted. "Anyway, you know this break-in at the Ministry by those three will never be reported, at least not properly."

"Yeah," Fred said with a snort.

"And there's all kinds of crazy rumors going round about what the Death Eaters can do and everything," Lee continued.

"Some kid was in here the other day and said that You-Know-Who could kill you just by looking at you," Fred replied, rolling his eyes.

"Right, so we need to find a way to get some real information to people," Lee said. "Like some kind of underground communication or something. I mean, you know there's got to be way more people that are against You-Know-Who than just those of us in the Order. But they're probably too scared or confused to find out what's really going on."

"So what are you thinking?" Fred asked, growing intrigued.

"Well first, I thought of a newspaper or magazine or something, but that would make it too easy to get caught. I mean you'd need a place to print everything up, not to mention that it wouldn't be too difficult for the Death Eaters to get their hands on a copy. And if you got caught with one," Lee trailed off shaking his head. "So it's got to be something that we can easily move if we have to and something that won't leave any evidence behind." He looked at Fred expectantly and his friend did not disappoint him.

"Like a wireless broadcast," Fred said.

"Exactly," Lee agreed with a smile. "All we have to figure out is how to cut in to the WWN somehow."

"Shouldn't be too hard," Fred mused, the wheels in his head already turning.

"I know, I've already got an idea," Lee said.

"Idea about what?" George asked as he came through the door. Lee and Fred grinned at each other and proceeded to explain what they had just discussed along with Lee's idea to start their broadcasts.

"What should we call it?" George asked, once he had brought up to speed. The three stood in thought for a few moments until Lee snapped his fingers.

"Potterwatch," he said. "Our first story should be about Harry, Ron and Hermione breaking into the Ministry."

"Brilliant," Fred said.

"And there should be some kind of password or something," Lee continued. "Something you have to have to get to the next broadcast."

"But if you missed one, then you wouldn't be able to get to the next one," George protested.

"That's the point," Lee said. "It will keep people listening." Fred and George nodded. "And once we figure out the charm, we won't ever have to broadcast from the same place twice. Less chance of getting caught."

"Excellent point," Fred agreed.

"Lee should host, it was his idea. Besides he's got the most experience of all of us," George said and Fred agreed. "And I don't think that both of us should be in on it."

"Why not?" Fred asked.

"Too suspicious," George said. "We've got to go on the assumption that the Death Eaters will hear a broadcast eventually. If they figure out that Lee's the host and both of us are gone from the shop at the same time," George shrugged his shoulders.

"Right," Fred said. "So maybe we should just be guest reporters or something? Not be on every time and we can switch off."

"Nah, you do it Fred. We could get some other members from the Order to help too," George said. "Remus would be perfect and maybe Kingsley. Then we can all switch off. We won't ever all be on at the same time, except Lee."

"We need code names," Lee said.

"River," the twins said simultaneously, pointing to Lee. He snorted.

"Romulus for Remus," Fred said.

"Rather obvious, isn't it?" Lee asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Only to people who aren't idiots," Fred replied. "Of which we know the Death Eaters are." All three laughed.

"How about Royal for Kingsley?" George asked. "You know, King, royal." Lee and Fred nodded.

"Rodent," Lee said, pointing to Fred.

"Rodent? What kind of name is that?" Fred demanded.

"Weasley, weasel, rodent," Lee explained.

"I am not going to be called Rodent," Fred said indignantly. Lee snickered. "I'll think of something else."

"We'll talk to Remus at the meeting tomorrow," George said. "This was a great idea Lee."

Lee beamed with pride. It might not be much, his little radio broadcast, but Lee felt like he would finally be doing something to help. Morale was just as important as fighting, if not more so, he knew. He would fight too, when the time came, but for now, getting out real information would be his priority.


	12. Phineas Nigellus Black

**A/N - I had no idea what I was going to write for this one until I went and looked at the Black family tree. Phineas Nigellus' son, Phineas was disowned because he supported muggle rights and this sort of came to me. It's a bit confusing since they have the same name, but 'Phineas' refers to Phineas Nigellus and 'young Phineas' refers to his son. Also there is no birthdate listed for young Phineas, so I arbitrarily decided on 1880, since Sirius was born in 1877 and Arcturus in 1884, so he would 18 in this story and have just finished Hogwarts. Family tree info was taken from the HP Lexicon and HP Wiki. Hope you like it! **

**Summer 1898**

"Despicable," Phineas said, throwing the newspaper down on the table.

"What is Father?" Cygnus spoke up. Phineas glared at him for speaking out of turn and the boy looked back down at his dinner, seemingly properly cowed. Phineas decided to let it go this time.

"These muggle lovers," Phineas said with disgust. "Thinking the Statute of Secrecy needs to be altered after all this time. Do they want to go back to the old ways when we were continually persecuted? Ridiculous."

"I don't know Father, what they are asking for seems reasonable to me," young Phineas replied. Phineas turned his malevolent gaze on the eldest of his children still living at home. Sirius had married the year before.

"Oh you do, do you?" Phineas asked, sneer on his face. Young Phineas seemed either not to notice or didn't care to heed his father's warning tone.

"Muggle-born families simply want to be able to tell the rest of their relatives if they have a child that is a witch or wizard," young Phineas said. "I am sure that it is difficult for parents to have to keep such a secret from the child's grandparents. I do not see why this is a problem." Phineas had tightened his jaw once his son uttered the word 'muggle-born'. The vein in his temple was starting to throb.

"Mudbloods are unnatural and have no place in our world as it is," he hissed. "To change the laws and make it easier for them is preposterous." Young Phineas glanced at his mother who had a warning look on her face, but did not back down.

"Must you use such a word in front of mother and Belvina, Father?" young Phineas said with a small shake of his head. Phineas stared at his namesake. He had been too soft on the boy, letting Ursula coddle him as a child due to his sickly nature. Sirius and Arcturus never spoke to their father in such a manner, nor did they ever hold anything but Phineas' own beliefs about mudbloods and blood traitors. His own sister had disgraced the family by married a muggle and Merlin knew that Phineas would not let his son do the same. He pounded his fist down on the table. Belvina jumped.

"I have had just about enough of your insolence boy," he roared, as he stood. "You will hold your tongue this instant or face the consequences." Young Phineas blinked at his father and then deliberately set down his fork.

"I believe I am a bit too old for you to take me over your knee, Father," young Phineas said calmly.

"Phineas," his mother said in warning. Her husband turned his glare on her and she looked back down at the table. Arcturus had remained silent throughout the exchange, focusing on his dinner, while Cygnus' eyes had been darting back and forth between his father and older brother.

Phineas turned back to his son and leaned forward, his hands braced on the table. He stopped mere inches from his son's face.

"You will respect your elders, my son," he said slowly and warningly. "And you will remember what the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black stands for before you speak again." Young Phineas did not break eye contact with his father as he pulled his napkin from his lap and rose himself. Bracing himself similarly against the table, he moved even closer to his father before speaking.

"My opinions and beliefs will not be ruled by my name, Father," the boy said quietly. "Your prejudices are out of date and wrong." The silence in the room was complete. Cygnus' mouth gaped open and even Arcturus had stopped eating and looked up at his brother. Belvina's shoulders were shaking and Ursula had begun to twist her napkin round her fingers.

Then Phineas raised his arm and back-handed his son across the face. The signet ring Phineas wore opened a gash across his son's cheekbone, immediately drawing blood. Young Phineas looked at his father in shock for a moment then stood and smiled slyly, rubbing his jaw.

"Always the bully, Father," young Phineas said mockingly. "It's no wonder you're so unpopular at school." Phineas pulled his wand and pointed it at his son, his face bright red. Young Phineas pulled his own wand and the two stood toe-to-toe.

"Stop, please," Ursula said, pulling her husband's sleeve. Phineas shoved her, pushing her backwards and causing her to stumble over her chair.

"Mother," young Phineas called, sheathing his wand and rushing to his mother's aid. He helped his mother from the floor. Belvina was instantly at her mother's side, the tears running down his sister's face. Young Phineas gave her an apologetic look and then turned back to his father. Phineas still had his wand pointed at his son and the color had not drained any from his face.

"This is your last chance to take back what you said," Phineas said.

"I won't," young Phineas said calmly. Phineas stared at his namesake for a few more seconds before turning to the family tapestry that hung on the dining room wall. One blast from his wand and Phineas the younger's name disappeared from it.

"Get. Out." he ground out through gritted teeth to the young man before him. Ursula choked back a sob and Belvina sat down in the chair behind her, her face in her hands.

"I'm sorry it has come to this Father," young Phineas said, straightening his shoulders and standing tall.

"You are no son of mine," Phineas spat. "Do not address me as such."

"Very well," young Phineas said. He smiled at his mother and his sister and patted Cygnus on the shoulder as he left the room. Phineas followed him to the front door and just before his son left, Phineas grabbed his hand, forcing the boy's palm against the wood of the door. Phineas muttered a spell and a golden light came out to surround young Phineas' hand. The light swirled and then slowly changed to black, young Phineas crying out as the wood grew hot beneath his hand. Phineas released him from his grip.

"The wards no longer recognize you," Phineas snapped. "I would not advise you to attempt to reenter this house." Young Phineas' jaw hardened.

"Someday I hope that you come to regret this decision," young Phineas said.

"Do not hold your breath waiting for it," Phineas retorted. "Toujours Pur."

"Don't worry _Phineas_," young Phineas sneered on the name. "I have no intention of that." With that, he turned and disappeared, disapparating with a small pop.

Phineas stood and stared at the spot where his second eldest son had just stood. His jaw worked for a moment before he turned and slammed the door shut behind him. Stalking back into the dining room he was not surprised to find that it was empty save the house elf that was clearing away the dinner plates.

Phineas stood in front of the tapestry, staring at the smoking hole he had just created. His fingers rose of their own accord and traced over a similar hole that once carried the name of his sister Isla. Unbidden, he hung his head and pulled in a breath. And then, he pulled himself up to his full height, face a hardened mask once more.


	13. Hermione Granger

**A/N - There are so many things I could have written for Hermione, but this one shouted the loudest so here it is. This is the first time I've written in the present tense, which was definitely different, sort of like a stream of consciousness thing with Hermione's thoughts. Anyway, let me know what you think! **

**Late October 1997**

Hermione glances back and forth between the two boys as they shout at each other, accusations flying between the two about things that they've been carrying around for ages now. She knows that Ron's resentment goes way back to fourth year and the Tournament, maybe even all the way back to the very first day of school when Harry got all that attention as the Boy-Who-Lived. She knows that he realizes Harry doesn't want the attention, hates it actually, would give anything for it not to be him, but the jealousy remains nonetheless. As much a part of Ron as his red hair and his freckles.

He's worried about his family, she understands that, she does, even though he would probably tell her she doesn't given the fact that she's an only child and her parents are relatively safe in Australia. And she gets his frustration because she's felt it too. The difference is she doesn't blame Harry, not really. It's Dumbledore's fault that they didn't have more to go on or maybe he never really knew either. In any case it doesn't matter now.

The boys trade insults and she begs them to stop, begs them to realize that it's not either one of them, but the damn, bloody Horcrux that's making them act this way. That and the hunger and the cold and the frustration and if they do this now, what chance do they have to succeed. But of course they don't listen because they're stupid boys and they make her so angry she wants to punch them both and leave herself. But she doesn't. Instead, she raises a shield the moment she sees them going for their wands. No matter how angry they are she knows they don't want to hurt each other, that neither would ever forgive himself if he did something stupid.

And then Ron asks her the one thing she knows she can't do. He wants her to choose and she looks at him and wonders just how he expects her to pick between them. Between her brother in everything but blood and him, the boy she loves, has loved since third year probably, maybe even earlier. She's not sure she can actually pinpoint when it began. And she hates the stupid jealousy that he feels, because it's so completely inane. There's nothing like that between Harry and her, there never has been. Sure she thought long ago that there might be, but it was nothing more than simple hero worship because of who he was_._ Harry is her brother, nothing more and she can't believe that Ron can't see that. He's so thick sometimes that it drives her mad and makes her wonder why she even loves him in the first place. But she does.

And she wants to pick Ron, wants to with every fiber of her being. She wants to go where it's safe, although no place is really completely safe these days she knows. But somewhere they can be warm and dry and eat properly without having to steal or scrounge or just go hungry because they're nowhere near a village and there's only so much you can do with mushrooms and roots and herbs. Somewhere they don't have to play at being adults, where someone else will take the responsibility for taking care of them and looking out and solving problems. And though Molly Weasley is sometimes overbearing and ridiculously overprotective, Hermione would give anything for one of her hugs right now, not to mention some of her roast beef and potatoes.

Because it's not fair, it's not fair at all that they've been forced to grow up so quickly, that the very future of the wizarding world has been placed upon their shoulders. For even though they're considered adults in their world and she in the muggle one as well, they're still just kids. She wants nothing more than to curl up in her father's lap and have her mother stroke her hair and tell her everything will be all right, that they will take care of it all. But she's sent them away and they don't even remember her anymore, but even if they did she knows this won't happen because no one else knows, no one else is in on the secret, there's only them. And as much as she respects him, she curses Albus Dumbledore for putting them in this position.

She looks at Harry and her decision's made, even though she knows that there never really was a choice to begin with. She has to stay with him, has to help him because if she doesn't, he won't make it. He'll go off and do something completely stupid, so completely Gryffindor, that he'll get himself killed and then what chance do they have?

And so she tells Ron she's staying and begs him with her eyes to understand. He looks at her in disgust and then Harry too and storms off. She begs him to come back, finally runs after him out of the tent and into the rain, but he ignores her. She hears the crack of his apparition and falls to her knees, the rain pouring down now and soaking her through. A hole opens up in her heart, so huge and gaping that she doesn't even understand how it can continue to beat. She stares into the night for a few minutes until her teeth begin to chatter and the she goes back to the tent.

She tells Harry that Ron's gone and then throws herself in a chair and starts to cry. She turns away from Harry, not able to look him in the eye for she knows what she'll see. Pity and remorse and regret and she realizes that if she looks at him she'll fall apart completely. She'll lie down on the floor of the tent and drown in her own despair.

Once Harry falls asleep, she gets up and sits outside the tent to keep watch. Even though she knows Ron won't return, knows it in the very depths of her soul that he's gone for good, she still hopes. She waits up all night willing him to come back. But he doesn't.

The next morning she delays and stalls and does everything she can to give Ron time to change his mind, they both do. Even though she knows he won't. She understands how long it takes him to admit he's wrong and even longer still to swallow his pride and apologize. She knows there's no way it will happen in the mere twelve hours that he has available to him.

And when she can stall no longer, when everything has been packed and repacked and they've just stood in the same spots watching and waiting, hoping that he'll return, she holds out her arm to Harry. She's a little nervous that she'll splinch them given her state of mind, but she doesn't. She apparates them to a hillside covered in heather and she wants to lie down and hide in it. He won't find them now, there is no way that he can and Hermione sinks down on a rock and begins to sob.

Harry leaves her almost immediately and begins to put up the wards, something that is usually her job, but Hermione says nothing, just continues to sob on the rock in the meadow for the boy who took her heart with him when he left.


	14. Dudley Dursley

**A/N - Here's my next one. JKR has said that Dudley saw himself as he really was when the dementors came near, so that is what I've used here. Hope you enjoy! **

**April 1996**

Dudley Dursley was thinking again, something he'd been doing quite often since those dementor things had attacked him and his cousin last summer. It wasn't an activity that Dudley particularly enjoyed either, especially when he was thinking about what he was. Normally, he could get up and go down to the gym and punch the bag for a while. Once he got into a rhythm, concentrating on his movements and the placement of his punches, the thoughts would stop. But lately, it hadn't been working, even when he was covered in sweat and panting from exhaustion. And Dudley wasn't sure that he liked it, in fact, he knew that he didn't like it at all.

Dudley was used to getting what he wanted, his parents had always given him everything and what they didn't give him, he simply took. His cousin had always been one of his favorite targets, mostly because Harry was so much smaller than him and his parents never said that he shouldn't. In fact, they almost seemed to encourage it, something else that didn't really seem to sit right with Dudley any longer.

A lot of his friends had siblings and when Dudley visited their homes, he had never noticed that his friends' parents treated their children so differently. Sure, Piers' mum acted different around Piers that she did around his sister, but Priscilla was a girl so that made sense. And she still got on Piers when he teased Priss too much. Dudley's mum never cared what he did to Harry. Harry wasn't his brother, Dudley understood that, but Harry had lived with them for so long sometimes it felt like he was.

Dudley was confused, something else that he didn't like to be. He wondered if maybe his parents had been wrong all those years for treating Harry like they did and letting Dudley do the same. And Dudley couldn't reconcile this in his mind because weren't parents supposed to be the ones to teach kids right from wrong?

Harry had started to fight back though, ever since he'd gone off to that school. Right before those _things_ had come, Harry had been making fun of Dudley for picking on younger kids. He'd all but called him a coward and a bully. Dudley had been so angry he'd wanted to pound his cousin into the dirt, but one wave of that, that _stick_ of his and Dudley had shuddered in fear.

And then those things came, the dementors. Dudley had never told anyone what he'd saw when they had been so close to him. His mum had asked him more than once, but Dudley just couldn't say. He couldn't tell his mother that he'd seen all the kids he'd ever beat on, crying and begging him to stop. He couldn't tell her that he saw Harry, fear naked on his face, as he ran from Dudley and his gang. He couldn't tell her because it made him feel ashamed, something he had never felt before, not ever. And Dudley didn't like it.

Sometimes, he wondered what his cousin saw when those things were around. He wondered if Harry saw some of the same things Dudley did or if the things Dudley's dad did were more prominent in his mind. Dudley knew that his dad often crossed the line with Harry, not too far, but he crossed it all the same. Harry had never been beaten, at least not as far as Dudley knew, but the backhands across the face and times they sent Harry to his cupboard without eating or even keeping him locked in his room, Dudley didn't think those things were right. Nothing like that ever happened to him and Harry never really did much wrong except sometimes doing well, the 'm' thing. And Harry said that was an accident and Dudley sort of believed him because a bunch of times he'd done things before he started going to that school.

Dudley remembered the time his mum had cut Harry's hair, nearly shaved his head, and the next morning it had grown back and looked exactly the same. Harry got punished something fierce for that, but when Dudley had dumped an entire canister of flour all over the kitchen just because he wanted to, his mother had smiled indulgently and patted his cheek saying something about curious boys and then made Harry clean the mess up.

His friends all thought it was funny, the things that Dudley did to Harry and to other kids. But sometimes he wondered if they were only his friends so that he didn't do to them what he did to all the others. That one kid last summer, Mark Evans, he was Gordon's neighbor and he'd seen Gordon take a step forward before Dudley had laid into Mark. And then Gordon had shook his head and stepped back and Dudley had thrown the punch he'd checked for just a second.

Piers was the only one that Dudley knew was not his friend out of fear. Lately though, Dudley was starting to wonder if Piers was his friend for another reason, because he somehow got some kick out of the things Dudley did. Dudley had caught Piers with that girl a few months ago over the Christmas holidays, the one that had been crying and whose shirt was torn. Her face looked kind of red too, but Dudley hadn't been sure if it was because she was embarrassed or because maybe Piers had hit her and Dudley didn't ask. Piers hadn't been happy that Dudley had interrupted them, but the girl had run as soon as Dudley had shown up. When Dudley had asked Piers why the girl was crying, the look on Piers' face was absolutely gleeful and a little horrifying. Dudley hadn't asked him anything else after that.

Dudley sat down on his bed and put his face in his hands. He had never been so confused before and he wasn't sure just what to do about it. His friends would never understand, he'd been this way for so long they might think he'd gone mad if he told them what he was thinking. And his parents, he could never tell them. His boxing coach just fueled Dudley's aggression more, telling him to use his anger on his opponents. He respected his coach too, so maybe the things Dudley did weren't as bad as he thought. Maybe he was just doing things that all boys did.

But there had been that little voice nagging in the back of his mind lately, one that had never been there before. It was the voice that was making him question all of these things and he thought that maybe if he could just get the voice to shut up somehow, everything would get back to normal. Everything he'd tried so far hadn't worked though, and he wasn't sure what else to do. Maybe he should try changing and see what happened to the voice then.

That thought made Dudley sit up straight on his bed and gasp. Change? Him? He'd been this way forever, certainly changing wasn't what he needed to do. Was what he did to those kids really that horrible? Every kid got beat on sometimes by other kids; it's just how the world worked. Dudley had seen it time and again everywhere he went. Even here at Smeltings there was a hierarchy that everyone knew about. As long as everyone kept their place things were fine. It was when kids tried to be something that they weren't that things got ugly.

No, Dudley couldn't be the one that needed to change. Everyone else just needed to remember their place and then he wouldn't have to beat anyone up. It was simple, really. Mind made up, Dudley got up and grabbed his things for the shower. He didn't need to do anything differently. _'Or do you?'_ the little voice said.


	15. Ignotus Peverell

**A/N - Oh my this one was difficult! So, this story is based on what Dumbledore said in DH about the Peverell brothers really creating the Hallows themselves, but the story having sprung up from the legends surrounding them. We don't know what Ignotus Peverell's son's name was, that is my own creation or whether it was with his son's generation that the Peverell name died out, but I chose to write that it did. Enjoy! **

"What is this Father?" Ignotus heard Matthias ask. He turned from his cauldron to look at the seven year-old. The boy had a corner of Ignotus' Cloak of Invisibility in his hand, the rest still hidden in the cupboard where Ignotus stored it. He looked at his son for a moment before deciding that Matthias was old enough to know about the cloak.

"That, my son, is a cloak of invisibility," Ignotus said, opening the cupboard and pulling the cloak from it, letting the material slide between his fingers and fall shimmering to the floor. As Matthias bent to pick the cloak up, he gasped and dropped it as his arm disappeared. Ignotus chuckled and retrieved the cloak, flinging it around his shoulders, but not drawing the hood. Matthias stared at him open-mouthed as his father's head seemed to float in mid-air and Ignotus could not help but laugh again.

"But, but Father, wherever did you get it?" Matthias asked. Ignotus studied his son. He was certainly intelligent, although intelligence and wisdom were unquestionably two very different things. And Matthias was definitely powerful, but just how powerful, Ignotus did not know. The cloak would someday go to him and he should know from whence it came, although Ignotus was not at all sure that now was the time to impart that particular piece of wisdom.

His brothers, Antioch and Cadmus had been intelligent and powerful wizards as well. Cadmus' son had already proven to be a formidable wizard, but seemed to lean more towards his elder uncle's way of thinking than Ignotus' own. Ignotus felt that he had failed the boy somehow and he was not at all sure that his nephew would not meet the same fate as his uncle and father.

Ignotus remembered the day that Antioch had told him that he would fashion an unbeatable wand. Having studied wandlore for many years, Ignotus did not doubt that Antioch could do it, however the wisdom of such an invention was the question. Knowing that Antioch's thirst for ultimate power often got the best of him, Ignotus was sure that his brother would not be able to keep such a creation quiet. Antioch had brushed aside Ignotus' concerns and now the wand had already become that of legend, its bloody trail becoming quickly longer with each passing day, Antioch himself its second victim.

Cadmus, on the other hand, had scoffed at Antioch's quest for the wand and had instead focused on overcoming death itself. While Cadmus had married and fathered his son, he had never stopped grieving for his first love, nor regretting the fact that he had not been able to get to her before she died. That pining had driven his wife to leave him and take their young son with her. Cadmus was convinced that he could have done something to save his first love, although magic could only do so much Ignotus knew. The idea of the resurrection stone was a ludicrous one. Ignotus only had to point to Inferi to prove this to Cadmus, but his brother was obsessed.

While Ignotus had not been completely sure that his brother could actually do it, he hadn't been particularly surprised that it had worked. Although not to the degree that Cadmus wanted. Ignotus had also not been surprised when Cadmus had taken his own life once he realized he had failed. The stone, which had been left to Cadmus' son, did not really interest his nephew, although he kept it all the same.

Ignotus looked back at his own son and wondered. Perhaps blood would eventually win out with Matthias as well, regardless of what wisdom Ignotus tried to instill in the child. The Cloak had been just one of Ignotus' many experiments. He had not been sure that it would even work and he had to admit that he was rather proud of his achievement. Not so proud that he would brag about it to anyone who would listen however. Had he even needed to learn that lesson, Antioch's untimely demise would have been proof enough.

But one day, it would be Matthias' and his son after him and so on down the line, for this was not a cloak that would wear out or eventually lose its ability to shield the wearer. Ignotus had made sure of that. And so, should he not tell Matthias of all of the work and sweat and tears that Ignotus had put into it? Should his son not realize that one day he might be able to do the same? Perhaps, Ignotus thought, one day he should. However, that day was not today. And so, Ignotus decided to try and impart some of that wisdom in his son by way of a tale.

"Ah, that my son, is quite a story," Ignotus said, looking fondly down at the boy. "Come, sit here and I will tell you all about it." The two settled next to each on a bench in Ignotus' workshop. "_There were once three brothers who were traveling along a lonely, winding road at twilight_," (1) Ignotus began.

* * *

Years later, Matthias looked down upon his daughter who held the same cloak in her small hand. She asked the same questions Matthias had asked and Matthias went through the same concerns in his head that Ignotus had. Eventually Ignotus had told Matthias the truth of the cloak, as well as the wand and the stone, along with the cautions for creating such objects. However, the warning words his father imparted to him did not stick as prominently in his mind as the story his father had first told him. And so, looking down and smiling at his small daughter, he led her to a bench where they sat side by side and Matthias began the same story that his father had told him so many years ago.

* * *

**(1) Quote from The Tales of Beedle the Bard - The Three Brothers by JKR.**


	16. Arthur Weasley

**A/N - Here is my next character. Besides the Snakes and Ladders challenge, this one was also written for the Gemstone Competition - Diamond and the Legendary Gods and Goddesses Competition - Japanese - ****Izanagi no Mikoto** also on HPFC. Enjoy! 

**Early October 1997**

Arthur conjured a chair in the garden and sat down with his tea, staring out towards the orchard. Molly had been crying again. Arthur could tell even though she cast charms to hide the puffiness of her eyes. She hadn't been eating well, but was still cooking enough to feed nearly their entire brood instead of just the two of them. She told Arthur that she did it because you never knew when someone might stop by, a member the Order or one of the children, but Arthur knew it was really her way of trying to cope, trying to pretend that everything was normal.

The children weighed heavily on his mind every day, although they really weren't children anymore, he supposed. Ginny the only one not yet of age and she hadn't been a child in a very long time. It was hard to believe that Bill was married already, although things hadn't started the way Arthur would have wished for him, their wedding interrupted the way that it had been, not to mention marrying in the midst of a war. And the attack by Greyback still affected all of them, the scars on Bill's face that would never quite heal or the way he wanted his steak nearly raw at certain times of the month. Arthur felt bile rise in his throat at the thought that he might have lost his first-born. They were relatively safe, Bill and Fleur, in the small cottage they had moved into, as safe as any of them could be in this war anyway, but Arthur still worried.

Charlie had gone back to Romania after the wedding, although Molly had begged him to stay. Secretly, Arthur was glad that he'd gone back. He was safer on the continent than he would have been here, the war not extending there yet. Arthur hoped it never would. It was one less person for Arthur to worry about, although he still worried. Of course he did. Even only recruiting foreign wizards, Charlie could be in danger if he spoke to the wrong person.

Fred and George still came round to dinner from time to time. It had been less often, though, their work on their products for the Order and the war taking up more and more of their time. Arthur shuddered remembering George's injury in the summer. He hadn't been that scared since Minerva had told them that Ginny had been taken into the Chamber. And Fred, Fred had nearly fallen apart when he'd seen that his twin was hurt. He'd hid it, naturally, behind jokes and laughter, but Arthur could see it in his eyes. If they'd lost George they would have lost Fred as well, of that Arthur had no doubt. He pushed that thought as far away as he could, not wanting to even imagine life without one or both of the twins.

And Ron, the quickest tempered of all his sons, the one who often put his foot in it without thinking, the least mature in many ways, he was off Merlin knew where with Harry and Hermione on some kind of crazy quest given to them by Dumbledore that no one else knew anything about. Despite his respect for the man, Arthur had been extremely angry with Dumbledore since his son and his two best friends, as good as children to Arthur, had gone. Arthur knew it was coming, he wasn't as unobservant as people sometimes thought. Molly knew it too, as much as she tried to deny it. But when they'd left after Kingsley's patronus had warned them, Arthur had felt like a little piece of his heart had gone with them. His only comfort was that the three of them were together and that wasn't much comfort at all.

Ginny had gone back to school of course. She would have had to regardless of their feelings on the matter, now that Hogwarts had been made compulsory for pure and half-bloods. And though Hogwarts had always been considered a bastion of safety in the wizarding world, Arthur no longer felt she was any safer than she would have been on the run with Ron. He knew his fiery daughter, so like her mother when Molly was that age. If there were anything she could do to help the war effort, she would do it and damn the consequences and that terrified him, especially with Snape and the Carrows in charge. She was his baby girl, _he_ was the one that was supposed to protect her and now he couldn't. He couldn't protect any of them, not really.

Arthur took another sip of his tea and his thoughts unwillingly turned to Percy. Arthur was still so angry with him that he saw red whenever Percy's name was mentioned. He couldn't understand how the boy had turned out the way he had. That was not the way Arthur and Molly had raised him. Arthur's anger was partly fueled by how hurt his wife had been when Percy had said the things he did. Molly had shed more tears for Percy than she had for the rest of their children put together. It was one thing when Fudge and the Rufus had been Minister, but even now with bloody Voldemort running the show, Percy hadn't come round.

But inside the anger, inside the indignation, he was petrified that Percy would be swept up with the rest of the criminals when they did win this war because they would win. That Percy would be sent to Azkaban, or worse. It was a thought that woke Arthur up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, nearly as often as the thought of one of the rest of his children being maimed or killed. Arthur shivered and forced his breathing to slow. It wouldn't do to think of those things now.

"Arthur?" Molly's voice said softly from behind him. "Everything all right?" She put a hand on his shoulder. He covered it with his own and squeezed hers.

"Of course," he said with a smile. "Just having some tea and thinking."

"What about?" she asked.

"Oh, this and that," he replied. He wouldn't tell her, couldn't really because while everyone knew that Molly was the one that took care of them and kept them all afloat, he was the anchor. Molly's anchor anyway. If she knew that he was terrified for their children and for her, he wasn't sure that she would be able to keep functioning. She stepped up next to him and in a fit of playfulness he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her onto his lap.

"Arthur," she admonished, slapping him lightly on the shoulder. But she made no move to get up. She rested her head against his shoulder and he buried his face in her hair, tightening his arm around her waist.

No, he wouldn't let Molly know of his previous thoughts and worries. It would do nothing but upset her and make her worry even more, which was nothing either of them needed. He would keep on as he had been, going to work and passing as much information as he could to the rest of the Order. He kissed his wife's head. He would be strong, the rock, the anchor, just as everyone expected him to be.


	17. Salazar Slytherin

**A/N - Salazar Slytherin this time, another toughie! This was also written for the Gemstone Competition - Emerald, the Greenhouses Competition - Stargazer, and the Legendary Gods and Goddesses Competition - Japanese - Tsukuyomi no Mikoto. **

"I will not allow it," Salazar insisted as the four of them sat at the round table in the Great Hall discussing the next year's incoming students.

"Salazar," Helga admonished gently.

"It is not natural," Salazar said again. "They are not to be trusted. You choose to forget what happened to Gareth mere months ago?"

"Of course we have not forgotten," Godric replied snappishly. "How can you ask such a thing?"

"Then how can you allow one of them to come here?" Salazar demanded. Godric sighed and Helga looked disappointed. Helga often looked at him with disappointment lately.

"We are well aware of your objections regarding those of non-magical blood, Salazar," Rowena added. "However, surely you cannot protest this child. We have proven she is from a magical line, only four generations removed. She has relations that already attend."

"Relations she knows nothing about, nor they her," Salazar said. "As it should be." Godric shook his head and stood, beginning to pace.

"I do not understand you Salazar," Godric said. "Surely you had to realize that this would happen eventually. The more students we attract, the more word travels, the more students like this we will discover. It cannot have been much of a surprise."

It wasn't a surprise, true. Salazar himself had come across a wizard born of non-magical parents in his travels before the school was founded. That did not mean that they should educate them. Their parents were still muggles, the worst kind of people in Salazar's opinion, even before everything that had happened to Gareth.

"That is not the point Godric," Salazar said, rising himself. "Gareth," but Godric cut him off with a glare.

"Gareth was ignorant," Godric snapped. "He should not have been flouting his abilities in front of those whom he did not know."

"Are you saying he deserved to be killed?" Salazar asked, stepping closer to his long-time friend.

"Of course not, Salazar," Godric replied. "I am saying that he should have been smarter."

"Besides," Helga added. "Not all muggles are that way."

"How do we know this child did not steal her magic from someone?" Salazar challenged. Godric scoffed and Helga gave him another disappointed look.

"Oh Salazar, really," Rowena said, shaking her head. "You know that is not possible. Magic is in our blood, we cannot steal it."

"You cannot know that," he pressed. "Even you, Rowena, with your vast knowledge of spells and potions, cannot possibly know every single one."

"And if she knew such a spell or how to make such a potion, she would not have needed to steal the magic because she would have already had it," Rowena replied sharply. "You are making yourself look a fool, Salazar." Salazar glared at her but did not reply. He would never admit that her logic had defeated his argument.

"And how is she to get here?" Salazar asked. "Her parents know nothing of us."

"One of us will travel to her," Godric replied. "We will explain to her family and if they agree, bring her back with us."

"Ridiculous," Salazar sneered. "Having to cater to muggles."

"Enough," Helga said, pounding her fist on the table. They all jumped. Helga rarely lost her temper, but when she did, the rest knew to be wary.

"You are wrong about this Salazar, terribly wrong," she continued. "There is no room for prejudice when students have been found to possess the right skills for acceptance. It matters not from whence she came; only that she is a witch and therefore belongs here." Salazar leaned over the table, bracing himself with his hands, scowling at Helga.

"She will _never_ belong here," he hissed. "Nor will any of the others that you will inevitably find. Only those of pure blood belong here." Helga, who had not flinched, rose now, mirroring Salazar's pose and looked him in the eye.

"I will teach any child of magical talent that comes through those doors," she said evenly.

"I as well," Rowena added.

"And I," said Godric. Seething, Salazar looked from one to the other of his lifelong friends, disgusted at their complete acceptance of these dirty blooded children that would soon infect his school. Knowing however, that he would not be able to turn any of them to his way of thinking, he simply regarded them all with complete disdain.

"Someday, you will regret this decision," he spat. "Mark my words." And with that he spun on his heel and left the Great Hall, robes billowing behind him.


	18. Rolf Scamander

**A/N - So we know very little about Rolf, except that he's married to Luna and he's Newt Scamander's grandson. And I know he and Luna were eventually famous magizoologists, so maybe this was how they started. :)**

**October 2003**

Rolf walked into the dingy little pub and settled heavily on a stool at the bar. He was tired and hungry and frustrated. He had been in Sweden for more than two weeks and was no closer to his goal than he had been when he arrived. He was starting to believe that whoever had given his boss the information about the Swedish Short-Snout colony had either been completely confused or flat-out lying. He had been over every inch of the forest that the colony was supposedly living in more than once and had found nothing. And it wasn't as if dragons were particularly easy to hide.

"Probably the wrong forest altogether," Rolf muttered under his breath as the barman came up and asked what he wanted. Rolf ordered dinner and a butterbeer, thankful that at least their informant had been right about the location of the magical community here.

The barman slid the bottle of butterbeer towards him and Rolf took a long drink, visibly relaxing a bit as the familiar liquid slid down his throat. Sighing in contentment, he looked around the pub while he waited for his food.

There weren't many patrons in the place. It was a bit early he supposed. As he waited, the door to the pub opened and a woman walked in. She had long blonde hair and the largest eyes Rolf had ever seen. She was wearing some kind of necklace and as she got closer, Rolf realized it was made of butterbeer caps. His brow furrowed as he looked at her and she surprised him by taking the stool only one away from his, although the seats were nearly empty, only one other was occupied at the far end.

"Hello," the woman said once she had settled herself on the stool.

"Evening," Rolf replied with a nod.

When the barman approached, Rolf expected her to order a butterbeer given her necklace, but she surprised him by asking for a gillywater instead. Once he had served her, the barman moved off and she turned toward Rolf.

"Have you found them yet?" she asked.

"Excuse me?" Rolf replied.

"The dragons," she said. "Have you found them?"

"How did you know I was looking for dragons?" he asked incredulously.

"I've seen you in the forest, looking in places that dragons would most likely be and I had heard that there might be a colony around here somewhere, so I just assumed," she said with a smile. Rolf was shocked into silence. "It's what most people come to Sweden for, the Short-Snouts. You won't find them if they don't want you to though."

"You, you've, I mean, you've seen," Rolf knew that he was stuttering badly, but he was completely taken aback by this woman. He had no idea there was anyone else in the forest with him. How had he not noticed she was there?

"Seen you in the forest, yes," she said, turning her large eyes on him. He could see now that they were silvery grey.

"Have you been looking for the Short-Snouts as well?" he managed to ask, somewhat coherently.

"Oh no," the woman said. "I'm looking for the Crumple-Horned Snorkack."

"Crumple-Horned what?" Rolf asked.

"Snorkack," the woman repeated. "I was fairly sure I was on the trail of one yesterday, but when I got to what I thought was its lair, it was empty. I'm still looking though." She smiled and Rolf found himself returning it, although he had no idea what in the world this woman was talking about.

"I'm Luna by the way. Luna Lovegood," she said, holding out her hand toward him.

"Rolf Scamander," he replied, shaking her hand.

"Scamander?" she repeated. "Are you related to Newt Scamander?"

"Yes, he was my grandfather," Rolf said, waiting for the inevitable questions that would follow. Luna said nothing however, just gave a small nod of her head. Rolf's food arrived and while his manners dictated that he continue his conversation, he was awfully hungry.

"Oh, don't wait on my account," Luna said. "It smells very good." Rolf gave her a nod and tucked in, trying not to shovel the food into his mouth. He'd had nothing but a few cold sandwiches for the last two days. He was ravenous.

As he ate, he kept glancing at Luna from the corner of his eye. She had a constant smile on her face, as if she were always thinking of something pleasant. He decided that she couldn't be much older than twenty, he was at least ten years her senior. She didn't seem to notice his glances or if she did, she ignored them and continued with whatever thoughts were occupying her mind. When he had finished his meal, she seemed to know it instantly for she turned towards him again.

"What was it that you said you were looking for?" he asked, as he wiped his mouth on his napkin one last time.

"The Crumple-Horned Snorkack," Luna said. "Daddy and I were here a few years ago looking for them, but we weren't successful. I decided to come back and try again."

"What is it exactly?" Rolf asked. Given who his grandfather was, he was more than certain that he knew every type of magical creature that had been discovered so far and he'd never heard of this one. As Luna explained what the Snorkack was, Rolf couldn't help but stare. She spoke with a dreamlike quality that almost painted a picture of what she was saying in his mind. The fact that her eyes were so large made her look as if she were surprised by her very words. Rolf had never met anyone like her. So intent was he on her face, that he didn't realize she had finished speaking.

"Sorry?" he said, realizing she had asked him a question.

"Have you noticed any of their tracks at all?" she asked again and he shook his head. "Why are you looking for dragons?"

"Oh, I work at a dragon reserve in Romania," he said. "We're looking for a couple of breeding pairs to boost our Short-Snout population."

"Oh, then you must know Charlie Weasley," Luna said.

"Yes, he's my boss," Rolf admitted. "How do you know him?"

"His sister was in my year," Luna said. "She was a Gryffindor, like Charlie. I also knew her brother Ronald. He wasn't always nice to me while we were in school, but he's a friend now." Rolf found himself nodding at her, unable to stop looking at her. She was so, so_ different_ and he found himself wanting to continue talking to her. He thought about what she had just said.

"Wait, you know Harry Potter," Rolf said and Luna nodded.

"Yes, Harry and Ginny are good friends," she said with a smile. It was then that Rolf realized just who she was. She was a war hero, had fought in the Final Battle alongside Harry Potter and Neville Longbottom, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. He never would have thought it by looking at her or hearing her speak.

"You really should try the forest south of here about fifty kilometers," she continued. "I think you'll have better luck there with the dragons." Rolf felt himself nodding, still not able to take his eyes off of her.

"Would you," his voice cracked and he cleared his throat. "Would you care to join me? Look for Snorkacks there?" She turned towards him and seemed to study him for an indeterminate amount of time. Rolf felt as if she were reading his very thoughts, probably trying to decide if he were just out to try and meet the famous Harry Potter. Truthfully, he really didn't care at the moment. He just didn't want her to stop talking.

"Yes," she finally said. "I think that I might like that very much." He smiled widely at her, a smile which she returned. Somehow, Rolf knew that his life would probably never be the same again.


	19. Hermione Granger 2

**A/N - So I got Hermione again. This was also written for the Wand Wood Competition - Beech and the Greenhouse Competition - Azalea. Enjoy! **

**August 1998**

Hermione looked out the window of the plane as they began their descent into Sydney and her stomach flipped again. She could have taken an international portkey and arrived much more quickly, but there was something soothing about taking a plane instead, something that anchored her to her parents' world, instead of the magical one.

She had intended to come and look for them before this, but after the battle there had been all the funerals and then most of the older students and the Order and all of the remaining teachers had stayed to help rebuild Hogwarts. It was slow work at first, even with magic, each stone having to be put into place one by one, not to mention all the work on the grounds. They had been kept so busy all day and were so exhausted every night that Hermione was always asleep nearly before her head hit the pillow.

Once the main work on the castle was done most of the volunteers left, but Hermione and a few others stayed behind to watch as the wards were replaced and strengthened. The entire process had fascinated Hermione and she found herself in the library nearly every evening, looking for books on the subject while helping Madame Pince repair and salvage everything that they could.

Hermione had been running on auto-pilot and adrenaline for such a long time that she was quite unprepared for the overwhelming crush of grief that had swamped her once the majority of the work at Hogwarts was done. She had never really considered herself a crier, but she found herself breaking down and sobbing uncontrollably at the oddest times. And not only for those that they'd lost in the battle, but also for Cedric and Sirius and Professor Dumbledore, deaths she thought she was long over. Even Harry's parents, people she had never even met, garnered tears, although Hermione suspected that was more about the loss of her friend's innocence and the childhood that he never had, than anything else. Perhaps a little bit for her own as well.

She thought of her parents often and wondered where they were and what they had done after they'd gone to Australia. She felt guilty sometimes, wishing that they were with her, when so many had lost loved ones for good. She loved the Weasley's almost as much as she loved her own parents and she had never felt anything but loved and welcomed by them, but they still weren't _hers_. They were all grieving for Fred in their own way and while Hermione was as well, she knew it wasn't the same.

Ron had wanted to come with her on this trip, even after she'd told him she was flying, but she hadn't let him. Hermione could tell that Molly needed to keep him close to her; she needed to keep all of them close, at least for now. Even Charlie hadn't returned to Romania yet. Harry had offered as well, but Hermione knew that his heart wasn't really in it. He'd started to repair things with Ginny and he had considered the Weasley's his surrogate family for quite a while now. Hermione saw the same need of Molly's to keep Harry near and so Hermione had gently turned him down.

As the plane touched ground, Hermione's stomach lurched again. She wondered just how long the search would take or if she would even be able to find them at all. She intended to find a library and do some searching on the internet to at least give her a start. She wished again that she'd given her parents a more specific idea than the whole of Australia.

And then there was the concern that she wouldn't be able to reverse the charm she'd put on them. What if they didn't remember her at all, no matter what she did? That was the biggest reason she had wanted to come alone. She couldn't bear for someone else to witness it if she failed to counter the charm or if her parents rejected her once she had.

Hermione stood and shouldered her bag as the passengers began to exit the plane. She took a deep breath as she stepped from the jet way and into the airport. No matter how long it took, she would find them.

* * *

**4 weeks later**

Hermione sighed as she came up the front walk of the little house just outside Melbourne. She had been in Australia for nearly a month and so far all of her searching had come to naught. She missed Ron desperately, Harry nearly as much. She was sick of hotels and eating out and frustrating dead ends. She had started to wonder if the charm hadn't worked properly and that maybe her parents weren't in Australia at all. If this house wasn't the one, Hermione was going home. She would hire a private investigator or something to try and find them.

She knocked on the door and prepared herself for more disappointment. She'd had so many in the last few weeks. She wished once more that she had given her parents a more unusual last name.

The door opened and Hermione looked up, her breath instantly leaving her. It was her dad, really and truly him. Hermione's lip began to tremble and she could feel the tears gathering. Dammit, she could not do this now, would not.

"May I help you?" her father asked, looking at her quizzically. Hermione bit the inside of her cheek to keep from crying and looked her father square in the eye.

"Yes, my name is Hermione Granger," she said and managed a smile.

"Hermione? What a lovely name," her father said and Hermione half laughed, half sobbed. Her father looked at her in concern. "Are you all right Miss?" Hermione shook her head. "Monica," Mr. Granger called into the house. "Can you come here a moment?" Hermione heard footsteps inside the house and bowed her head, knowing she would not be able to keep her composure once she saw her mum.

"What is it Wendell?" Hermione's mother said, coming to the door. She looked at Hermione and there was a small gasp. Hermione chanced a glance up and locked eyes with her mother. Mrs. Granger studied her daughter for a few moments, her head cocked to the side. "Do I know you from somewhere?" she finally asked. "You look familiar to me."

"Yes," Hermione replied. "You used to know me quite well."

"Used to?" her mother asked in confusion. Hermione nodded and looked back at her father who looked even more bewildered.

"She says her name is Hermione Granger," he said to his wife.

"Hermione," Mrs. Granger whispered and her hand fluttered to her chest. Hermione waited, but her mother didn't say anything more, just continued to stare. Hermione thought that there might be a flicker of recognition in her mother's eyes, but it was probably just wishful thinking.

"May I come in and explain?" Hermione asked, biting her lip and crossing her fingers behind her back in hopes that they wouldn't turn her away.

"Monica?" Hermione's father said, taking his wife's elbow, clearly concerned.

"Yes," her mother said. "Yes, please, I think that you should come in." Hermione smiled through the glaze of tears that had been threatening to fall for the last few minutes. She stepped into the house and looked at her mother one last time before following her father into the sitting room.


	20. Nymphadora Tonks

**A/N - So more angsty sadness from me! I seem to be writing alot of that lately. This was also written for the Gemstone Competition - Flourite and the Wand Wood Competition -Ebony.**

**1 September 1996**

Tonks turned from the gates of Hogwarts, unable to even scowl at Snape. She wanted to and normally, she would have, would have done much more than scowl at him as a matter of fact, but instead she sighed and turned unhappily back towards Hogsmeade.

She supposed that Remus was gone already, back to the werewolf packs to try and turn them to the light. She wouldn't have even known he was going at all, had she not overheard him talking to Moody about it. He'd had no intention of telling her, that much was clear when she confronted him.

"_You're going back," she accused as he came up from the kitchen at Grimmauld. He had been startled when she spoke, not knowing she was there. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. She crossed her arms in front of her and glared at him. "Are you doing this to get away from me?" Her voice had risen and Remus glanced at her aunt's portrait, before taking her arm and pulling her into the dining room. _

"_Please, let's not do this," he said once they were inside._

"_Were you even going to tell me?" she demanded. _

"_Why would I?" he asked and Tonks' heart clenched._

"_Because, no matter what you say and how many times you deny it, we mean something to each other," she said. He looked away. _

"_Just stop, Tonks," he said quietly._

"_Why?" she retorted, moving closer to him. "So you can keep lying to yourself? I know you feel it Remus, that night, I could tell."_

"_That night was a mistake," he said. Tonks felt as if he'd slapped her, although he'd told her as much already. More than once. "We were both upset over Sirius and things went too far. It shouldn't have happened."_

"_Just the thing every girl wants to hear," Tonks said with a scathing laugh._

"_I don't want to hurt you," Remus said. "I don't mean to, I," he broke off, shaking his head. "It would never work between us."_

"_You're right," Tonks said nodding her head. "How could anything possibly work if you won't even try?" _

"_I've given you my reasons," he said tightly. _

"_All ridiculous," she replied flippantly. He said nothing. "Fine," she snapped. "Go off to the werewolves and get yourself killed." He stood and stared at her for a moment and she turned her back, traitorous tears threatening._

"_Good-bye Tonks," he said and moved to the door. She heard him open it and step out. "I'm sorry," he whispered and she heard the click of the knob. Still, she waited until she was sure that he was gone and only then did she cry._

Tonks sighed and shook her head. It was stupid to keep reliving it. It wouldn't change anything and maybe if she forgot about him, she could get control of her morphing again. Ever since the night they'd spent together and his subsequent rejection, it had gotten harder to control her abilities and even more difficult to hold them for any length of time. She'd reverted back to her normal appearance and Kingsley refused to let her go out on any kind of undercover or surveillance work because of it. So she'd been assigned to patrol Hogsmeade instead.

It irritated her to no end that he was affecting her like this. Tonks had never been a crier, not even when she was a little girl. Most bumps and scrapes that would have sent other children running to their mother for comfort had rarely even slowed Tonks down. She had just gotten up, dusted herself off and kept going. So the nearly crushing pain that she felt now was completely foreign to her and not at all welcome.

"Tonks," Dawlish said as he approached.

"Dawlish," she replied. "Here to take over for me?"

"Yes," he said. She asked him his security question and he hers and then she nodded.

"See you in the morning then," she said, then turned and disapparated.

* * *

She wasn't overly surprised to find herself in front of her parents' house instead of in her flat. She supposed her subconscious had directed her apparition. She knocked at the door, not wanting to just walk in and startle her parents since they weren't expecting her.

"Who is it?" she heard her father ask.

"It's me, Dad," she replied. The door opened and she nearly wept at the smile that her father gave her.

"Dora?" he said. "What are you doing here so late?"

"How do you know it's me?" she demanded, the Auror in her still in full-force. He rolled his eyes.

"Fine, what happened when you were three?" he said.

"I tripped and sliced my head open on the hearth," she said. "Screamed bloody murder and then fell asleep while Mum was healing it." He chuckled at the memory and pulled her into a hug. She clung to him and hitched in a breath.

"What's the matter?" he asked in concern, as he pulled her into the house and shut the door.

"Nothing, it's just, nothing," she said, shaking her head and turning away from him.

"Hey," he said, putting a hand on her shoulder and turning her back around. He took a good look at her and his brow furrowed. "Something's up. I haven't seen your hair this color since you were five."

"Where's Mum?" she asked, peeking into the sitting room.

"She was tired, so she's already gone up to bed," her father said. Tonks nodded and then looked up at him. Her lip began to tremble and he pulled her back into his arms.

"Daddy," she said and began to cry quietly into his chest. He rubbed her back and kissed the top of her head.

"What's the matter Sunshine?" he asked, reverting back to her childhood nickname. She sighed.

"Remus," she mumbled and he squeezed her a bit tighter. Tonks burrowed further into his chest and told him everything. Her father had always been her confidant growing up. She knew her mum loved her, but Andromeda always seemed exasperated with Tonks about one thing or another. Either it was the fact that she was always getting dirty or didn't act like a lady or preferred running and flying on her broom to sitting quietly and reading or playing with dolls.

"Maybe he's right, maybe I should just forget about him," Tonks said when she finished. "The problem is, I'm not sure just how to do that." Her father smiled at her.

"Do you love him Sunshine?" he asked. Tonks sighed.

"Merlin help me, but yes," she said.

"And does he feel the same?" Ted asked. Tonks shrugged.

"He says he doesn't, but I think he's lying," she said. Ted nodded.

"Then don't give up," her father said simply. Tonks quirked an eyebrow at him. Her father chuckled. "If I had given up on your mother all those years ago, you wouldn't be here young lady." He tapped the end of her nose. "Your mother was terrified of what her family would think, what they would do when they found out. It took her quite a while to admit that what she felt for me was more important than what anyone thought. It seems likely that the same is true for Remus."

"You don't mind that he's a werewolf?" she asked.

"Sunshine, I wouldn't care if he was a house elf, as long as the two of you love each other and he treats you the way that he should," her father said.

"Mum will mind," she said with a sigh.

"You mum minds about a lot of things," Ted said with a grin. "But she always comes round in the end." Tonks hugged him again.

"I love you, Daddy," she said.

"I love you too," he replied. And as the two of them stood there, the ends of Tonks' hair tinged pink. Ted smiled and hugged his girl again.


	21. Bellatrix Lestrange

**A/N - So I struggled with just how exactly the dementors would affect Bellatrix because she doesn't have happy memories per se, but I would think that the violence and torture would make _her_ happy, so what would they leave her with then? Anyway, this was my take on it. This chapter was written for a few other competitions as well, which I listed at the end. **

**31 October 1981**

Bellatrix grinned evilly as she continued to torture the worthless mudblood that lay in front of her. She had been sent on a raid with a larger than usual group of Death Eaters and told to have as much fun as possible. She knew that the Dark Lord was on his own mission tonight, one that involved only that spineless Wormtail and the Potters. She had requested to go along, begged really, but was rebuffed by her Master, who told her this was something he must do alone. Bellatrix grinned wider imagining her cousin's reaction to the deaths of his precious Potter and his filthy mudblood and their half-blood brat.

The screams of the man in front of her began to bore Bellatrix, so she cast a silencing charm on him and continued her work. She glanced to where Rodolphus and Rabastan were playing with the wife and smirked. Rabastan always did like to have his fun first.

She turned back to the mudblood and debated letting him alone for a bit so he could watch Rabastan when her forearm seared in pain. This was not the burning of a summons, but something else. Her wand lowered and Bellatrix hissed and grabbed her arm. She looked at her husband and brother-in-law and saw that they too were grasping their Dark Marks.

Shoving the pain away for a moment, Bellatrix quickly killed the mudblood and his family and then turned to her husband.

"What does it mean?" she demanded, but Rodolphus just shook his head in ignorance. Rabastan could barely stand beneath the pain, but he had always been the weakest of the three.

"What if," Rodolphus pulled in a breath, "What if something happened?"

"No!" Bellatrix roared and as suddenly as it had come, the pain disappeared. She yanked back her sleeve and watched at the Dark Mark turned from an angry red to its normal black. She sighed in relief for a moment before she noticed that the mark was starting to fade slightly along the edges. "No," she whispered. "No, it cannot be." Rodolphus saw her actions and pulled back his own sleeve, Rabastan following suit a moment later. The three looked up at each other in horror before disapparating nearly simultaneously. Bellatrix realized as she was squeezed into nothingness that they had forgotten to cast the Dark Mark above the house.

* * *

**November 1981**

"No," Bellatrix said again. "It hasn't gone altogether and you know as well as I that our Lord had plans in place. He is not gone, they must be hiding him."

"For what purpose?" Rodolphus demanded.

"To draw us out you imbecile," she snapped. "How many idiots have been captured already? How many have turned traitor against us?" Rodolphus said nothing. "They've let their guard down now," Bellatrix said. "We'll go tonight. Get Rabastan and whoever else you can find." Rodolphus looked at his wife who had that glint in her eye, one of madness and determination and left their safe house after disillusioning himself.

* * *

**December 1981**

Azkaban. She had known this would happen when they were caught and she refused to claim the Imperius curse like her coward of a brother-in-law, Lucius. She would not renounce her Lord. Her only regret was that they had not managed to kill the Longbottoms before they were arrested. Still, she thought, maybe having them lose their minds was a better punishment.

The air grew colder and Bellatrix knew the dementors were drifting ever nearer. She began to grin in anticipation, knowing that the memories that flooded her mind would continue to fuel her determination to survive. Someday, her Lord would come back and they could once again put things right.

* * *

**June 1987**

Lighter. It was lighter or was it? She couldn't remember how dark it was before. It was still there, not gone, it was supposed to be light. No, not light, dark. Yes, dark. It was darker before. Before. Before what? Before...before then. She shook her head. No, before the Potters, before Halloween, yes, it was darker then. But it still wasn't gone. He was still there, she knew that he was. It was taking longer than she thought, but maybe not, she didn't know when now was exactly. It grew colder, they were coming and she smiled. This was the part she knew she liked. Remembering.

* * *

**February 1995**

More itching, itching, itching, itching. Bellatrix scratched at her arm, her eyes unfocused. He would come, someday he would come, he would come back, come for her, her Lord, her Master. She scratched at her arm until the sleeve pulled back and she stared. Stared at the skull and the snake and the mark. Darker, was it darker, more ink, less skin, darker? She shook her head, trying to shake the fuzziness from it and stared some more. Flashes of memories, faces and screams echoed in her mind. She grinned, showing her ruined teeth, her skin stretched tightly over her cheeks. Darker, it was darker, he was coming.

* * *

**24 June 1995**

It burned. The mark burned and Bellatrix stood in the middle of her cell and laughed maniacally. Laughed and laughed and laughed. The dementors massed outside her cell, sucking in her laughter and still she laughed. It was dark as night now and it burned. The other prisoners with her on her block rubbed their own arms. Soon, they knew, soon, he would come. Soon, they would be free.

* * *

**13 January 1996**

The mark had burned again a few times and every time she waited. Waited for him to come, but he hadn't. He would, she knew that he would. The dementors had been absent more often, her thoughts were becoming more coherent and she knew that it was only a matter of time. Rodolphus had called for her a few days ago. He hadn't called for her since, she couldn't remember when. She hadn't talked to anyone except inside her own head for… she couldn't remember how long.

But now, he would come; now she would have her revenge on those that had put her here and those that would keep her here. She would have her revenge on those not worthy to lick the boots of her Lord. The mudbloods and blood-traitors, half-bloods and muggle scum.

She heard the stones shift in the wall, saw the doors of the cells open. They were soon all crowded into her cell, all grinning, all laughing, as they watched the hole open up. And when the final stone was gone, they fled. Free.

* * *

**Also written for**

**Legendary Gods and Goddesses - Ares**

**Legendary Creatures - Petsuchos**

**Greenhouse - Chili Pepper**

**Wand Wood - Cypress**

**Potions - Essence of Insanity**


	22. Oliver Wood

**A/N - This was also written for the Legendary Gods and Goddesses Comp - Hachiman, Gemstone Comp - Opal and the Wand Wood Comp - Maple**

**2 May 1998**

Oliver ducked back into the shadows around the side of the castle, pressing himself as tightly against the stone as he could. The troll looked around and grunted again and then lumbered off to the left. Oliver sighed in relief. Scanning the grounds in front of him, he darted away from the wall and made for the doors.

The last time he had seen Katie she had been with Angelina, but that was nearly an hour ago now. Even in the dark he had no difficulty making out the litter of bodies across the grounds and as much as he tried not to, he kept imagining Katie being one of them.

Oliver was a bit surprised at the depth of his feelings for her. It had only been a few months since they had bumped into each other at Fred and George's shop. They'd had dinner together to catch up and Oliver hadn't been able to get her out of his mind ever since.

He had never really thought twice about her while they were in school together, except that she was an excellent Chaser. They had been teammates and not much else. He had been friendly towards her, but they hadn't really been friends. He supposed it had something to do with the difference in their ages and not really crossing paths much except for quidditch.

They had gone out a few times after their initial dinner, but despite the war, professional quidditch still went on and Oliver was rather busy. But whenever he wasn't with her, he wanted to be.

He had nearly reached the doors when he heard a shriek from behind him. He spun around and saw a body crumple to the ground a few yards away. A Death Eater was running off and Oliver shot a stunner toward him, catching the man in the back. He slumped over and Oliver raced toward the spot where she had fallen. He wasn't sure just how he knew it was Katie, but he did.

When he reached her, she was lying on her side, her eyes closed. Oliver's heart leapt to his throat for a moment until he heard the soft panting of her breath. He sighed in relief.

"Katie," he said quietly, reaching out a hand to gently turn her over. She winced and sucked in a breath, bringing a hand to her shoulder where blood was freely flowing. "Katie!"

"Fine, I'm fine," she hissed out through gritted teeth.

"No, you're not," he said. "Hold still." Playing professional quidditch made one fairly proficient in rudimentary healing spells. There were no time outs for minor injuries after all. Oliver gently peeled her robes away from her shoulder, then pointed his wand at her and sealed the gash as best he could. "You still need to see Madame Pomfrey," he said. "That's deep and the spell I did won't hold for long."

"I'm fine Oliver," she said, making to stand. He held her arm to steady her as she got to her feet. She took a step forward and cried out in pain, her leg buckling beneath her.

"You're not fine," he insisted, putting her good arm around his shoulder. "What is it?"

"Don't know," she managed through grimaces of pain. "Some curse I've never heard of. It's not that bad." Oliver glanced around realizing just how vulnerable they were here out in the open. It was sheer luck they hadn't been attacked already.

"We need to get inside," he said. "Can you walk at all?"

"Maybe," she said and tried another step as Oliver propped her up. When her knee buckled again, he scooped her up in his arms and hurried toward the castle.

"Oliver," she protested. "Put me down." He said nothing, just hugged her tighter to him. A few moments later, her arms went round his neck and she rested her head against his chest with a sigh. Oliver eyes darted all around them, looking for threats as they got closer to the castle doors. They were nearly there, when a figured loomed out of the darkness.

"Katie," Oliver whispered, but she didn't respond. He quickly looked down and realized she had been lying to him about the pain as she had clearly passed out. He swore and managed to point his wand toward the person in front of him, while still keeping a grip on Katie. The Death Eater cast something at him and Oliver managed to raise a shield, although the restriction of the movement in his arm meant it wasn't a very strong one. The shield kept the spell at bay, but shattered soon after. Oliver managed to step to the side when the next curse came his way, but he knew he wouldn't be able to keep up much longer.

He could set Katie down behind him and duel the Death Eater, but that would leave her completely exposed and he knew he wouldn't be able to concentrate properly. Running was an option, but with his extra burden he wouldn't be able to maneuver well. He threw another shield up just in time and knew that if Katie were awake she would be screaming at her to leave her and go, but he couldn't.

His only saving grace was that the Death Eater pursuing him wasn't all that skilled. He couldn't have been as Oliver and Katie were both still breathing. Backing up as quickly as he could, while still keeping a hold on Katie and maintaining his shield, Oliver just hoped they would come upon someone else on their side.

Eventually the Death Eater seemed to tire of playing with him for he raised his wand and began to utter the two words that Oliver had heard too many times already tonight. Oliver's eyes widened and he turned his back, hunching protectively over Katie. The cursed died on the Death Eater's lips and Oliver chanced a glance over his shoulder to see him falling heavily to the ground. A dirty and blood-streaked Angelina stood behind him.

"Ang!" Oliver yelled. He turned back around and she took a few shaky steps toward him, wand arm trembling. She managed to make it to him, slumping heavily against his side. Oliver somehow got an arm around her without losing his grip on Katie.

"Come on," he said. "Let's get inside." Angelina nodded and the three of them finally made it into the Entrance Hall.

"Angelina!" Oliver heard someone yell and he turned to see Alicia Spinnet hurrying toward them. "Oliver, what happened?" She pulled Angelina's arm around her and the girl leaned into her.

"Katie took a cutting curse to the shoulder and something else to her leg," Oliver said as they hurried into the Great Hall which had been set up as a make-shift infirmary. "I don't know what happened to Angelina." Oliver came upon an empty bed and laid Katie gently in it, then conjured a chair and sat down next to her, taking her hand in his.

Madame Pomfrey hurried over to tend to them. She repaired the gash in Katie's shoulder and frowned for a moment over her leg before nodding and muttering a spell. She then turned to Angelina who tried to wave her off, protesting that she was fine, just tired. The mediwitch scowled at her and checked her over, healing the few small cuts she had and slapping a tub of bruise salve into Alicia's hand with instructions to apply it to Angelina's face, then hurried off.

Oliver turned back to Katie, raising her hand to his lips and kissing the back of it. Katie's eyes fluttered and then finally opened. A wide smile split Oliver's face.

"How do you feel?" he asked.

"Not bad," she said. They stilled as they heard the booming voice of Voldemort echoing across the grounds, granting them a one-hour armistice. Katie looked up at Oliver with tears in her eyes as he finished speaking.

"Angelina?" she whispered.

"She's all right," he said. "She saved our skins actually." He related the story to Katie. Katie sighed in relief then looked back at him.

"You were going to take the curse for me, weren't you?" she asked. He couldn't say anything, merely nodded. "Why?" He shrugged, then looked back down at her. Unable to resist, he lowered his head to hers and kissed her gently, brushing a lock of hair off her face as he pulled back.

"I love you Katie Bell," he said quietly. She stared at him for a minute and then ran a finger down his cheek.

"You're an idiot Oliver Wood," she said, choking back a sob. "But I love you too."

"If we make it out of this alive, will you tell me that again?" he asked. "Just so I know it wasn't in the heat of the battle and all that."

"Every single day," she replied and he smiled and kissed her again.


	23. Harry Potter

**A/N - Here it is, the last entry for this challenge. I've written so much angst lately, that I decided to end it with a little family fluff. Since Harry always wanted a family, I thought it was fitting. And,this little scenario is based on my own life, although quite a few years ago now. As hard as it was, I sometimes miss these days. (Okay, not the no sleep part, but the rest of it.) Thank you so much to everyone who read and especially those who reviewed these little one-shots. I appreciate all of you and I very much enjoyed writing them! :)**

**Also written for these Competitions - Legendary Beasts - Sha, Gemstone - Peridot, Greenhouse - Tulip, Potions - Everlasting Elixir and Wand Wood - Rowan**

The scream of a baby jolted Harry awake. He turned on his side and a small arm smacked him in the face. Grimacing, he groped behind him on the bedside table for his glasses and after putting them on saw that Ginny was no longer in bed. Albus, however, was sprawled in the middle, his arms and legs akimbo. Harry sighed realizing his son had crawled in bed with them again, sometime during the night. No wonder his back ached. He'd been kicked all night long.

The baby wailed again and Harry yawned and looked at the clock, 4:37. Groaning, he rose and made his way to the nursery. He looked in and saw Ginny walking with a red-faced Lily.

"Gin?" Harry said as he stepped inside the room. Ginny turned towards him, her face tear-streaked. Harry hurried to her side. "What is it? Is Lily all right?"

"I don't know what's wrong with her," Ginny said tearfully. "She's been crying for nearly two hours now. I've changed her, I've fed her, I've rocked her, I've walked with her, but nothing helps."

"Why didn't you wake me?" Harry asked. "Wait, two hours? Why didn't I hear her?"

"Silencing charm," Ginny said. "I just cancelled it."

"Ginny," Harry admonished, shaking his head. She was continually doing this, tending to the baby during the night by herself and not waking Harry for help.

"Al was in our bed, I didn't want to bring her in there and wake him up too," she said.

"You could have left her here for a few seconds and come and gotten me," Harry told her, taking Lily from her arms. The baby continued to cry as Harry gently bounced her and began to walk back and forth across the room. Ginny slumped down into the rocking chair.

Harry studied his wife as he continued to try and soothe his daughter. Ginny looked exhausted and there were dark circles under her eyes. Harry's eyes narrowed.

"How often has this been going on?" he asked. Ginny glanced up at him through her lashes, biting her bottom lip, a sure sign she was trying to hide something. She shrugged. Lily was starting to quiet and Harry began to lightly rub the baby's back. "Gin," he warned.

"I don't know, nearly every night I guess," she said. Harry sighed. Lily seemed to have drifted off now and Harry stopped walking, but began to sway back and forth.

"For this long of a time every night?" he questioned. Ginny shrugged again.

"Sometimes longer," she replied. Before Harry could say anything, Ginny looked at Lily. "Is she asleep?" she asked.

"I think so," Harry said. Ginny burst into tears. Harry quickly laid Lily in her cot and then went to his wife, putting up a muffliato around them so as not to reawaken his daughter. "What is it?" he asked as he knelt in front of Ginny and pulled her into his arms.

"Our baby hates me," she said and had Harry not been so shocked, he very well might have laughed aloud.

"What in Merlin's name are you talking about?" he said instead.

"Two hours, Harry!" Ginny wailed. "I tried to get her to stop crying for two hours and you come in here and five minutes later she's asleep."

"She was probably just so tired, she finally gave up," Harry protested. "She doesn't hate you." Ginny sniffled into his shoulder. "Promise me that you won't keep doing this." Ginny said nothing. "I want to help you sweetheart, please let me." Ginny finally nodded and Harry kissed her forehead. "Come on, come back to bed," Harry said. He stood and cancelled the charm, then wrapped his arm around his wife and led her back to their bedroom. Albus still lay in the middle of the bed, lightly snoring. "I'll take him back to his own room," Harry said. He picked the toddler up and then carried him to his bedroom.

Al began to stir as Harry reached his room and so Harry began to walk with him, much as he had with Lily until he was sure that Albus was truly asleep again. Harry finally got the boy tucked in his bed and walked back to his room. He groaned when he crossed the threshold. James had now taken up residence in the middle of their bed. Sighing, Harry moved to pick him up, but saw that not only did James have a tight grip on Ginny's arm, but Ginny had her arms wrapped around him, his little head tucked up into her neck. Both were breathing evenly. Smiling, Harry slid into bed beside them, wrapping an arm around them both.

Harry was just drifting off when a loud cry had him sitting bolt upright in the bed. Lily was awake again. Ginny began to stir, but Harry leaned over and kissed her cheek.

"I'll get her love, go back to sleep," he said. Ginny snuggled back down with James and Harry tiredly rose from their bed once more. Stepping back into the nursery, he picked up his screaming daughter.

"What's the matter, princess?" he whispered as he began to walk with Lily again, kissing the top of her head. "You haven't been very nice to your mummy lately, I hear." Continuing to talk quietly to his daughter, Harry moved to the rocking chair and sat down. He rocked her and hummed a lullaby until Lily had fallen asleep again. Standing, Harry crossed the room back to the cot, but as soon as he began to lay Lily down, she woke and began to cry again. After two more attempts, Harry looked at his daughter in amusement.

"So, it's like that is it?" he asked as Lily's eyes drooped shut once more. "All right then." Harry walked back to his bedroom, still holding the baby. He settled in beside James and Ginny, propped up a bit on pillows, Lily lying on his chest. He rubbed her back and closed his eyes, Lily's rhythmic breathing lulling him nearly asleep. Just before he drifted off completely, he felt a tugging on his sleeve. Opening his eyes and looking down, he saw Albus standing next to the bed and sucking his thumb.

"Hey mate," Harry whispered. "What's the matter?"

"Had a bad dweam," Al said around his thumb. "Haf ta sweep wif you." Harry chuckled.

"Can you climb in by yourself?" he asked. "I've got your sister." Albus nodded and began trying to climb into the bed. After two unsuccessful attempts, his face screwed up and Harry knew he was about to cry. "Shh, Al, it's all right, Daddy will help you. Put your knee up." Albus managed to get one knee on the bed and Harry put a hand under his bum and pushed him the rest of the way up. His son smiled happily and crawled to Harry's other side, next to his brother.

"Daddy," Al said, looking up at Harry. "We's all in da bed." Harry smiled.

"You're right Al," Harry replied. "Let's not make it a habit though, okay?"

"What's habit?" Al asked his face scrunched up in confusion.

"I'll tell you in the morning," Harry said trying not to laugh. "Now go to sleep."

"Tay," Al said, snuggling down next to Harry and sticking his thumb back in his mouth. Harry shook his head fondly and looked at his family. He and Ginny were exhausted and there were days that Harry wanted to pull his hair out in frustration. But seeing them all like this, cuddled together and sleeping peacefully, these were the moments that made it all worth it. Harry wrapped an arm more snugly around his daughter, his other arm going around Al and his hand on James' back. Ginny's fingers brushed his in her sleep and wrapped around his automatically. Harry smiled and slept.


End file.
